The Tricoloured Dragon
by jaqtkd
Summary: The English King Uther is determined to bring Pagan Wales under his control and offers an alliance to the most reasonable of their princes. Balinor accepts his offer instantly and even offers a son and a ward to the king as security. It all seems far too good to be true. (Warning: Some nudity and minor adult themes in-line with this T rating)
1. Arriving in Wales

**The Tricoloured Dragon**

_Y Ddraig Dri Lliw_

**Part One: The Gold Dragon**

**Chapter 1: Arriving in Wales**

Spring came early to England that year, making it unseasonally warm as Prince Arthur's twenty strong party travelled west and north with laden horses to negotiate an important alliance for the king. Then it felt as if time had been turned back by a couple of months as the blue sky rapidly turned grey and the rain began to fall; sideways sheets of cold needles flung from the sky and making their faces sting.

"Welcome to Wales," Gaius announced with a wry smile.

"Are we truly there, already?" Arthur asked.

"We are close to the border, certainly," the old man replied, looking around and getting his bearings. "I recommend we make camp soon and ensure we're battle-ready for tomorrow. We have no idea what we'll face when we cross into The Marches."

"The Marches?" Percival asked.

Arthur turned to the large knight, one of the few men that he had to look up to now he had reached his full height. "The disputed territory on the border of England and Wales," he explained. "Sometimes it belongs to us, sometimes to them but it's rarely a safe place to be."

"This prince of Gwynedd knows we're coming though, doesn't he?" Leon asked.

"He does, yes," Gaius confirmed, "but, last I heard, the area we're approaching was controlled by the kingdom of Powys to the south. As I said, we will need be on our guard when we cross into that territory tomorrow."

As they moved further west the following morning, the land continued to rise and the rain continued to pour and Gaius' warning proved prophetic as the afternoon saw the approach of a Powys scouting party who, as it turned out, looked and sounded rather more formidable than they actually were. Then again, this small rabble were facing a group of the very best knights in the whole of England with the most up-to-date armour and weapons that the kingdom had to offer. The Welsh soon realised their disadvantage, and the survivors retreated as quickly as they'd appeared.

The final leg of their journey was less eventful, although the scenery more than made up for any lack of action. The first hills they'd encountered had looked impressive enough, dwarfing anything they'd seen in England but, as they moved even further west, the peaks grew in size; craggy stone knives cutting through sparse, reedy grass, whilst the wider roads dwindled into narrow, stony pathways winding around the mountains and making the knights especially nervous about further attacks.

"We're in Gwynedd now," Gaius reassured them. "It's a stable kingdom these days, the reason Uther chose it for an ally. I doubt we'll have any problems from this point on."

~o~0~o~

They saw their destination long before they reached it. More of a fortress than a castle, the huge structure perched precariously on one of the smaller, rocky hills in the area, with larger mountains framing it dramatically from behind. The path approaching the building quickly became so steep that the party were forced to dismount and lead their horses along it, something they'd had to do rather more frequently in recent days. Arthur winced as the aches of previous walks along mountain paths made themselves felt in his sore calves, and he fought to ascend without slipping on the wet and crumbling stone tracks.

An identically sized party of twenty men were waiting to greet them as they eventually reached the imposing entrance to the fortress; a diplomatic offering, Arthur noted with approval. In many ways the Welsh clothes seemed less rich and impressive than Arthur would have expected from royalty but, nonetheless, he found he had no trouble identifying their king. No, he corrected himself – their prince.

For the Welsh, _that_ was a title of far greater honour and one that was perhaps better translated as warlord than king as they all understood the term. In this country it was not the eldest son that automatically inherited the kingdom, but the strongest; the superior warrior, the most ruthless fighter. Or perhaps it would be a brother or cousin that would take over when a Welsh prince died, or even a lord from a neighbouring kingdom. 'By right of conquest and by right of blood'. That was the Welsh inheritance law, and Arthur shook his head as he realised just how little his lessons with Gaius had prepared him for this visit.

The tall, bearded man in the centre of the welcoming party wore the same dark clothes as the men around him but with the addition of a thick fur-lined cloak; quite fine in its own, modest way. Like the Camelot cloaks, it displayed a dragon as decoration but, unlike the sedate golden dragon of the Pendragon dynasty, this creature was more roughly stitched; all tongue, claws and spikes.

The man stepped forward holding out a hand. "I welcome you all to Dinas Emrys Castle. My name is Balinor ab Ambrosius, Prince of Gwynedd, and I name you as honoured guests to my Hall."

His voice was heavily accented and musical, a stronger version of the mild lilt that Arthur often heard in Gaius' speech. The old man had been born and raised in Wales but had now lived many years in Camelot and had therefore adapted. In more ways than one.

Gaius stepped forward with a deep bow, "Rydym yn eich diolch am ein anrhydeddu fel gwestai a'n croesawu ni i'ch neuadd," he began and Arthur exchanged a confused look with Leon and Percival as the old man continued his greeting in the Welsh tongue. "Byddwch yn sicr ein bod yn dod mewn heddwch, gyda anrhegion a chyfarchion gan Frenin Lloegr."

Balinor beamed at this show of fluency and respect, and his party exchanged looks of surprise and obvious approval. Gaius then switched quickly to English and started the introductions.

"I bring with me a party of knights, including three young lords who have been personally chosen by King Uther to take part in our talks."

Arthur moved forwards with Leon and Percival trying not to let his nerves show. The planned deception had seemed perfectly sensible within the warm Halls of Camelot, but here in this wet, forbidding place, surrounded by numerous, stern, Welsh warriors, it suddenly felt like a risky move, especially as Balinor's curious gaze seemed to fall instantly on him as they approached.

"This is Sir Leon," Gaius announced, pointing to the tall, bearded man, "The first knight of Camelot."

"An honour," Balinor replied as he quite obviously pulled his attention away from the blond man, a hint of a frown quickly hidden.

"Sir Percival..." the old man continued.

Balinor looked up and his eyes widened before turning towards Arthur yet again. "It appears that you breed tall warriors in England, Lord Gaius. Even the youngest is on a level with me, it seems."

"This is Sir Lancelot," Gaius continued, indicating Arthur, and the young man quickly bowed, to hide any emotion that may be evident on his face.

"Young indeed to be awarded such an honour by your king."

"Yes, Sire," Arthur replied simply.

"'My lord' is the more appropriate title for one in my position, Sir Lancelot," Balinor corrected, but he smiled as he spoke, showing no sign of being insulted. Arthur made certain to apologise, all the same.

"He _is_ young, it's true," Leon continued, "but Lancelot is one of the very best warriors England has to offer and one that I now struggle to beat during our tourneys."

"High praise indeed," Balinor responded, "and, if it is not considered inappropriate, I hope that all three of you will honour us by displaying your prowess at our banquet tonight."

Arthur glanced at Gaius, confused by the request.

"Rather different occasions to the banquets at Camelot, it's true," the old man explained, with a smile, "Although I can assure you that the food is no less splendid."

"Well, we have kept you out in our brisk Welsh weather for far too long," Balinor continued. "Come inside and dry yourselves by our fires." He moved alongside the old man as they all made their way forwards. "Gaius, did I detect a hint of a Powys accent in your greeting earlier?"

"My place of birth, my lord, yes, although I have lived these last twelve years in Camelot."

"No need to look so worried," Balinor said, laughing. "I may currently be at war with your home kingdom, but I have greeted you and your party as honoured guests and you know that no harm can come to any of you whilst you are within my walls."

"You have my thanks."

Arthur found himself closely flanked by Leon and Percival as they walked through the stone gateway and into the dark, imposing courtyard and, for once, the young man felt grateful for his shorter height, despite Balinor's reassurances to Gaius. Percival's firm hand on his right shoulder seemed to suggest that the knight was aware of his unease and he continue to keep his gaze low, still feeling as if all the eyes were on him – as if they all knew exactly who he was.

"I wouldn't worry," Leon muttered under his breath. "I suspect they're just curious about your hair colour. I have not yet spotted a man with a lighter shade than mine here."

The older knight's comment made Arthur curious enough to look up then and notice that he was correct. Everything seemed dark here, including hair and clothing, and so he supposed he could see how their bright red cloaks and his very pale hair must have made quite an impression.

"Which means that you'll probably find yourself even more popular with the girls than you are at home, if that is possible," Percival added with a grin. Arthur found himself smiling back, finally starting to feel a little more relaxed.

"We have food and drink on offer in the Great Hall," Balinor announced then, as servants scurried forwards to take the horses. "But perhaps you would wish to be shown your rooms and rest there for a while?"

"We camped fairly close to your castle last night," Leon said, "and so I believe my knights are more in need of sustenance than anything else, although I cannot speak for Gaius, of course."

"I am feeling well enough rested," the old man reassured him. "Lead the way, my lord."

Again this seemed to be the right thing to say as, yet again, Balinor smiled broadly and his warriors all nodded their approval.

The Great Hall certainly lived up to its name and, although its stone walls were as dark and imposing as the outside of the castle, the rest came as a pleasant surprise.

There were rich, colourful tapestries on the walls and numerous flaming torches burning in their sconces. The Hall was packed full of men and woman, their clothes displaying far brighter shades than any Arthur had seen so far. As the party entered, minstrels started to play on the upper gallery and the music was unlike anything Arthur had heard before; complex and tuneful with vocals that sounded as if they were being sung by angels rather than mortal men. Arthur recalled his father's comments about the pagan Welsh and their unsophisticated ways and found himself confused at the obvious contradiction.

"There is no formality here this afternoon," Balinor announced. "Just eat or drink, whatever takes your fancy. Stand or sit. Stay together or mingle. All here are fluent in English and eager to meet you." He then turned to Arthur. "There are a couple here around your own age that I would introduce you to."

"Of course," Arthur replied politely, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder at Gaius. The old man just nodded at him with an encouraging smile, and so he followed the prince to one side of the room where a young man and woman wearing relatively bright and high status clothes were talking in front of an impressive tapestry depicting three dragons, swirling around each other in an artistic knot. On Balinor's approach the pair turned briskly with a bow and curtsey.

"This is Sir Lancelot, a knight from Camelot in England," the prince announced immediately. "Lancelot, this is Myrddin ap Balinor o Wynedd a Guinevere ferch Thomas ap Leodegrance o Benllyn." He rattled their names off so quickly and with such a strong accent that Arthur was quite unable to hide his confusion.

"In other words, I'm Merlin and this is Guinevere," the young man said with a laugh. Balinor sighed loudly at such casual talk, shook his head and then left them alone. Merlin seemed not at all concerned about the prince's reaction, apparently finding it amusing. The young man was tall with pale skin and dark hair and was remarkably slightly built compared to the burly Welsh warriors that made up the majority of the men in the room. The girl was small and dark haired with a complexion that hinted at some Roman ancestry within her blood. She looked up at Arthur nervously with large dark brown eyes and he felt his heart suddenly pound in his chest, stunned at her beauty and quite unable to take his eyes off her.

Merlin suddenly moved closer, putting a hand on the young man's shoulder and manoeuvring him towards one of the tables. Arthur felt a strange jolt run through his body at the contact and briefly wondered at it, but Merlin gave him such a relaxed open smile that Arthur began to think he'd imagined it.

"You must be cold and hungry, Lancelot?" he suggested.

"Ah yes, I admit that I am."

"And soaked through," the girl said, "Here, have some mulled wine, you'll not taste it's like in any other kingdom."

"Thank you … Guinevere?"

"Oh, just call me Gwen, everyone does."

"Dinas Emrys is not as formal as some Courts," Merlin continued with a grin, "and the two of us are even less formal than that, as my father is keen to point out on a regular basis."

"Was your journey here trouble free?" Gwen asked him then.

"Remarkably so," Arthur replied, not thinking it even worth mentioning the one and only skirmish they'd been involved in.

"I doubt many would want to take on nineteen knights of Camelot," Merlin commented. "All here know of their prowess."

"You do not seem to strike me as the warrior type though, Merlin," Arthur said, fairly confident now that he could ask such a question. He hadn't meant it to come out in quite such a teasing tone but, luckily, the young man seemed more amused than offended by the comment.

"To my family's shame," he replied, still grinning broadly, despite his words.

"Merlin has _other_ talents," Gwen said, throwing the young man a scolding look for being so self-depreciating.

"I prefer to fight my battles with words," Merlin announced with another open smile.

"You're a scholar?" Arthur guessed. "You should meet Gaius then. He's the older man that came here with our party and was also born in Wales."

"Really? Then I would certain be honoured to make his acquaintance. How's the drink?"

"Good. I'm feeling warmer already."

"You must eat something too and then you should go to your rooms and change out of your wet clothes and heavy armour," Merlin insisted.

"I admit that I wouldn't complain about that now."

"My lord," Merlin called out in a clear, commanding voice that easily carried across the noisy Hall, "Don't you think we should let our guests rest now? Time a plenty for food and talk tonight." Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise at the lack of propriety, but none of the Welsh seemed at all surprised.

"He is quite right," Balinor agreed, also apparently unconcerned about some young noble telling the prince what to do. "Forgive my thoughtlessness."

"Not at all, my Lord," Gaius disagreed.

"Merlin, would you show the knights to their quarters and I'll escort our four honoured guests to theirs."

"Of course, my lord," the boy replied, bowing deeply.

Again the bleak castle held a number of surprises for Arthur. Seeing that the Great Hall was an isolated structure, he'd assumed that they'd have to go back outside to reach their accommodation but, in fact, Balinor lead them downstairs through what was obviously an underground tunnel, before another set of stairs began to wind back upwards and they found themselves in a completely different building. Like everything else in Dinas Emrys, the walls and corridors seemed bleak and uninviting, but the large bed chambers were decorated by incredibly beautiful tapestries on the walls, rich rugs on the floors, enormous hearths burning brightly and four poster beds that would keep out the very worst of night-time drafts, even in a country such as this. Placed in front of each raging fire was a large bath tub, full of steaming water. Arthur almost groaned out loud at the wonderful sight.

"I'm sure all this seems very basic compared to what you're used to," Balinor apologised, "but I hope that it is acceptable all the same."

"I admit that I am most impressed," Leon said, his eyes also fixed firmly on the bath tub, "but, even if I wasn't, any indoor room with a fire would be welcome after the time we've spent on the road recently."

"Of course and, talking of which, I shall let you get clean and dry. These servants are all at your command for anything you require and are also available to escort you back downstairs to the Hall in time for our banquet in a few hours."

~o~0~o~

* * *

_**A/N:** This is a seventeen chapter fanfiction i__nspired by my holiday to North Wales last year and this history of the Welsh Princes. Special thanks to Wil1969 for the book cover and to Shadowkat101 for her Welsh language advice and translations._

_See my PP for more details and a list of names._

_1/8/13_


	2. The Banquet

**Chapter 2: The Banquet**

The bath was glorious and the water remained surprisingly warm throughout. When Arthur eventually found the will to leave the tub, he discovered his clothes already unpacked and laid out on the bed with not a single crease in sight. He chose his favourite red tunic with rich brown tunic, trousers and soft boots; delighted to be able to wear more luxurious and comfortable clothes after days of travelling clothes and armour.

"Prince Balinor has gifted you each a cloak for your duration," the young servant said, with such a halting accent that Arthur was fairly certain that English was not a language the man used very often. "No offence to your own beautiful one, but you'll find this very much warmer and drier and better suited to our weather."

"Thank you," Arthur replied, fingering the thick, fur-lined garment, "I will be happy to wear it."

Gaius had invited the three young Englishmen to his chambers until it was time for the banquet and Arthur arrived to find them all now similarly dressed, each with their own Welsh cloak either on their shoulders or laying nearby for later.

"This has gone very much better than I had expected so far," Leon said. "I admit that I'm pleasantly surprised by... well, everything."

"Uther does have a few misconceptions about the Welsh I'm afraid." Gaius' gaze flicked briefly to Arthur. "No offence."

"None taken and, I agree with Leon, I expected them to be..." He frowned, considering. "I'm not sure what I expected, actually, but certainly not a civilised as this."

"It's all about religion, of course," Gaius continued. "Uther believes that only those practising the Christian faith can be civilised, but the Druidic way has its merits too, and the chances are that that will be the main sticking point of our negotiations." He sighed. "It always is."

"Father …" Arthur winced as Gaius glared at him for his mistake. "Sorry, _Uther_ is always going on about unsavoury rituals and saying that they practice magic."

It had been decided that they should all keep up the Lancelot charade, even when alone, in order to avoid any slip ups.

"He doesn't mean _actual_ magic though, does he?" Percival queried. "I mean, it's just tricks and strange potions, isn't it?"

"I'd keep an open mind about that while you're here, boys," Gaius cautioned them, "and try not to react negatively if you see any of those 'tricks' in practice."

"Really?" Arthur asked, shocked at the suggestion.

"As for tonight, as Balinor hinted, there is likely to be informal sparring after the meal, but you should all leave your weapons here for now, as wooden ones will be provided downstairs."

"Wooden swords?" Arthur pulled a face. He hadn't used one of those since he was eight.

The old man smiled at his reaction. "Trust me, considering the delicate nature of these talks and the fact that you'll have had quite a bit to drink, you certainly don't want to be attempting to play-fight with the real thing."

~o~0~o~

The Hall was already full when the English party entered and their arrival was greeted by sudden silence, as everyone turned to watch the guests walk in. Arthur was aware of muttered whispers that begun as they moved forward – much of it in Welsh – although the looks and giggles that were directed at him by a number of the young ladies needed no translation, and he felt confident they were all making the right sort of impression – even if he didn't know for certain what they were saying.

Arthur's eyes instantly fell on Guinevere as they approached the top table, only to notice her looking back at him too, her eyes wide and curious. If she was impressed by what she saw than the feeling was entirely mutual. She looked incredible; her long hair flowing freely – just a few plaits styled in a way to keep the rest in place – with her rich, blue dress showing off her skin tone and figure to very great effect.

Balinor was seated in a high backed chair at the head of the top table, just as Uther would be at home. His lady was on his right; wearing an embroidered pale green dress and an open, ready smile that instantly reminded Arthur of somebody although he was, at that moment, quite unable to recall who. Gaius and Leon were directed to sit to Balinor's left, whilst Merlin signalled to Arthur to sit next to him on the right hand side of the table. The fact that Guinevere was sitting in-between Balinor's lady and Merlin made him suspect that the young pair were betrothed. It was perfectly logical in many ways, although Arthur couldn't help but feel a little jealous at the thought.

"You are well rested?" Merlin asked as the prince took his seat.

Arthur nodded in response. "Very much so."

"I remember how bleak and uninviting the castle seemed to me when I first arrived," Guinevere commented quietly, "and how pleasantly surprised I was when I came inside." Merlin just nodded and grinned in response.

"And when was that, my lady? If it's not too bold of me to ask," Arthur said. She cast a nervous look at Merlin who just shrugged and answered in her place.

"Gwen had been here for two years now. Even since Gwynedd took over her father's kingdom of Penllyn."

"Oh! I didn't realise..."

Did that mean she was a hostage? Arthur knew such things were even more common here in Wales than they were in England, but her sitting in such a place of honour and obviously being treated so well, went against everything he'd heard about the way the Welsh treated their conquered enemies.

"We were a very small kingdom," Guinevere explained, "and so, in many ways, we're grateful that it was Gwynedd and not Powys that took over our lands."

"They would not have treated you as favourably?" Arthur guessed.

"There are two choices a prince has to make when conquering a kingdom," Merlin explained. "To marry one of the family members to strengthen or establish his 'blood right', or to do everything in his power to ensure that their enemies can't take the land back by the same method."

"I had heard that many will kill the children in order to achieve that second aim," Arthur suggested carefully.

"That is true," Guinevere confirmed, "which is why I said we got the best of the deal. Balinor has decided to keep my family safe."

"By marrying Merlin?" he asked her and found himself surprised by the look of shock both showed at the question. He was quite sure he'd seen genuine affection between the pair.

"Oh no, not only would that not be a particularly useful match," Merlin explained, "but we don't feel that way about each other, anyway."

"Would Balinor take your opinions into account though?" Arthur pushed before really thinking about how that question would sound – realising that he was suddenly, personally very interested in Guinevere's marriage prospects and whether or not there would be a chance of her being included in their alliance negotiations.

"He may well do so," she replied with a smile. "I'm safe here, for now, but am more than aware that Balinor wishes to keep my family and I as far away from Powys as possible."

"Now then, I hear that you'll be a part of the negotiations tomorrow, Lancelot, so there will be plenty of time to find out about Balinor's plans, I'm sure," Merlin interrupted with a smile. "Let's not talk of politics and deals at this banquet though. Drink. Eat. You'll need to build up your strength if you're to beat our warriors later this evening."

"I suggest you give the same advice to your friends," Arthur replied with a smirk. "I fully intend to prove that Leon's boast was no idle one."

~o~0~o~

Once most of the food and drink had been consumed, servants arrived to clear away what was no longer needed and ensure that the large space in the middle of the Hall was covered with a fresh layer of straw.

"So, which of our guest would like to take the first bout?" Balinor asked. "Sir Leon?"

"It would be my honour, of course," the tall man responded, moving forward to the makeshift arena and selecting one of the wooden swords he was offered.

Leon's opponent was around Arthur's own height but very much broader which made the match a fairly even one, even though the Englishman did eventually loose. Percival won _his_ fight though, with even the biggest of the Welsh warriors unable to get the better of the large knight.

Arthur's opponent was also a good few inches smaller than himself. A young man with mid length brown hair and short beard, and the grin he shot Arthur was positively cheeky. The prince noted the light bounce and easy way the man held his sword and quickly realised that this was not an opponent to be underestimated.

"Right then, Lancelot, let's see if you're more than just a pretty face," he teased.

"I believe you have the advantage on me, sir. Will you give me _your_ name?"

"Gwaine ap Lot o Feirionnydd," he replied, grinning at Arthur's reaction to the name. "Would you like me to repeat that?"

"I think I'd rather fight."

Gwaine's smile became even more broad as he started to circle, and Arthur worked hard to remember all his lessons and search for any advantage he could find. He would have the longer reach, he decided, but the Welshman seemed to have especially good speed and reflexes.

So, it appeared that this opponent had also been chosen specially to offer a good and entertaining match and, as their fight continued, Arthur began to fully appreciate just how even the pairing was. Every time the prince was sure he had the advantage and went for the strike, the Welshman countered the blow and danced lightly out of the way. That would require Arthur to turn again, find his balance and defend for a while until one of them found another opening and the whole process could start all over again. With all this back and fourth, it inevitably came down to youth and fitness to decide the bout, with the recent mountain climbing perhaps making the difference and allowing Arthur to – eventually – beat the cheeky warrior in front of him.

"Well now, I admit I'm surprised and impressed," Gwaine conceded as Arthur finally knocked him onto his back and pushed the tip of his sword against his opponent's throat. "I wasn't expecting such a pretty looking knight to fight quite so well."

"Brave talk considering your position," Arthur countered. Even a wooden sword pushed into the right place could cause some serious damage.

Gwaine just gave him a roguish smile. "I trust that you consider the negotiations important enough not to kill one of the prince's allies, simply for his cheek," he responded calmly.

"Fair point." Arthur lowered his sword and offered a hand to help the man stand. He kept himself alert, half expecting some deception, but Gwaine simply allowed himself to be assisted whilst putting a friendly arm on Arthur's shoulder, subtly moving him away so the next pair of opponents could take to the floor, before offering him a drink 'as a reward for his skill'.

Arthur had a few more fights that evening, with Leon and Percival as well as other Welshmen. True to his previous comments, Merlin didn't get involved at all and Arthur often saw the young man raising his eyes to the ceiling and shaking his head as he watched the various bouts unfold in front of him.

"Surely there are others here you could fight?" Arthur suggested as he returned to his seat later on in the evening.

"Yes, of course, and I often do take part in … certain sparring matches but … not tonight." Merlin grinned as he saw the English man stare at him for the pauses and leaned a little closer. "Royal command," he whispered. "No need to offend our visitors."

"I don't understand," Arthur replied, but Merlin just laughed lightly and offered to top up his goblet.

Afterwards, the conversation and fighting became a little more rowdy, although Arthur noticed that Balinor was watching the proceedings very closely and did not appear to be drinking as much as those around him. He assumed from Merlin's earlier comment that the prince was making sure that no-one misbehaved in front of their English guests and thus run the risk of ruining the following day's negotiations.

Once most of the food had been consumed, Merlin got up and made his way over to see Gaius on the other side of the table. Arthur watched the young man hold out a hand and introduce himself with his usual silly grin, before perching informally on the edge of the table and begin some especially animated conversation.

"You fight very well, Lancelot." Guinevere's soft voice turned his attention back to her and he found himself suddenly annoyed at the identity deception; wishing he could hear her speak his real name in her delightfully lilting accent.

"Thank you, Guinevere. It is something I very much enjoy."

"Your family must be very proud."

"Well, there's only my father now and …" He pulled a face. "It's sometimes difficult to tell with him."

"Ah yes, there are many men like that, it's true. I believe that I am indeed fortunate to have such an affectionate father."

"Mine is especially strict, I have to admit," he continued, his mind racing as he thought carefully about how he could continue this conversation and still manage to keep his identify a secret.

"So, how did you come to be a knight of Camelot?" she asked.

"Ah, it's where I was born. I was always going to follow in my father's footsteps and was fortunate enough to have the very best training from a young age." Arthur had to admit to feeling quite pleased with that response.

"Fortunate indeed, although no amount of training will help if you do not have talent or work hard."

"That is true. I suppose, in that case, I should be grateful for my father's strictness."

"And the King's son?"

"S-sorry?" he stuttered, suddenly panicking.

"Do you know Prince Arthur?"

"I... ah, yes, I do."

There was a pause. "Well, what's he like?" she pushed.

Arthur's mind was racing now, desperate not to lie, but really not sure how he could reply to her question. "He's a fine warrior," he stated eventually. "Leon says he'll make a good leader and he does seem to be fairly popular." He found he couldn't look at her during this, nor did he feel he could be anything but perfectly truthful. "Although I hear some say that he can be rather arrogant at times."

"I suppose that is not unusual for someone who is heir. What is _your_ opinion of him?"

"Ah, I do believe it's unfair for me to comment on my fellow knight and future King," Arthur replied.

"Of course."

She sounded disappointed. Perhaps she mistook his reticence as politeness, believing that Lancelot thought Arthur had many failings but was too noble to say so. He realised that there was very little he could now say to help matters.

"Merlin is an … interesting young man?" It seemed the best thing to do now was to change the conversation completely. "Not the type of warrior I expected to find here."

Gwen gave him a quizzical look before smiling rather enigmatically. "Merlin is very special and often misunderstood," she replied. "However, despite your different personalities, I think the two of you could get along very well."

"Perhaps," Arthur replied with a smile, nodding over to where the subject of their conversation was still chatting away with Gaius. "He certainly seems to be able to make friends easily." He continued to stare at the young man, momentarily distracted from his conversation with Guinevere. As they had discussed in Gaius' room earlier, nothing here was how they'd expected it to be and Merlin seemed to be the embodiment of that Gwynedd confusion: A polite, friendly, scholarly and civilised Welshman. The exact opposite of what Uther had said they would encounter here.

With Merlin and Gaius still deep in conversation, and Balinor keeping a close eye on his drunk warriors whilst also socialising with Leon and Percival, Arthur took the opportunity to continue his conversation with this beautiful young lady, slowly and surely becoming more and more entranced by her, despite his better judgement.

"You mentioned your family earlier, Guinevere," Arthur asked. "Are they not here tonight?"

"Unfortunately not," she replied with a gentle smile. "My father is currently managing food supplies on Anglesey, whilst my brother, Elyan, is on guard duty for the negotiations that are happening south-west of here."

"Balinor is happy to put a sword in your brother's hand? Despite having taken away his birthright?"

"Elyan is likely to have been strong enough to take Father's throne, it's true," Guinevere replied with a soft smile and Arthur kicked himself for forgetting that there was no automatic right of succession here, "but my family have sworn fealty to Balinor now and believe he has the charisma, power and contacts to ensure the best future for Wales."

"He certainly is very charismatic," Arthur agreed.

Guinevere laughed brightly and Arthur felt his heart jolt as she did so. "I do believe that trait runs within this particular royal line," she agreed.

~o~0~o~


	3. The Alliance Begins

**Chapter 3: The Alliance Begins**

Arthur was pleased to note that the first session of negotiations were timetabled for the afternoon of the following day. More than enough time for everyone involved to recover from their respective hangovers.

The English party was lead into a very different looking Great Hall, this time housing a large, triangular shaped table in the centre of the impressive, wooden beamed space. As he got closer, Arthur noticed it to be beautifully intricate, each long side apparently a different colour and with a smaller triangle in the centre displaying a dragon so detailed that it appeared to be alive. The four Englishmen moved forward enthusiastically in order to inspect the table more closely and it soon became obvious that the dragon was inlaid with the same three colours, its scales almost rippling in the weak sunshine that was struggling through the small, high windows.

"It's beautiful," Percival gasped.

"I admit that I am very proud of it," Balinor announced. "It represents an ancient story that is especially important to my family. The Tricoloured Dragon."

"That sounds a little familiar," Gaius admitted, "Although I may be thinking of the tale of Vortigern's Castle which only speaks of two dragons; red and white."

"Ah, but both stories come from the same root, and the castle you speak of is this one; Dinas Emrys." Balinor's face lit up in a huge smile; more genuine than any Arthur had seen on the prince's face up until this point. "The original version mentions _three_ colours of dragon though, not two: Red, white and gold. As you can see here."

Arthur looked again at the table and realised that, although it was all made of wood, there had been different types used in its construction which seemed to give the table the look of being subtly painted. One side was very pale, another had a hint of red and the third had a slight yellow hue to it. In addition, each section had a different engraved pattern decorating it and Arthur was quite sure that it all had some mystical meaning that an Englishman like him would never get to find out about.

"I would be most interested to read your version of that story, Lord Balinor," Gaius continued, his hands now on the red edge, still peering at the amazing dragon decoration at the centre.

"Of course," the prince said, as the other members of the party started to take their seats. "And, with that in mind, may I introduce you to Geoffrey of Monmouth," he continued, indicating an older man who was slowly making his way to the table. "He is our master of records and will be happy to take you to our library when this afternoon's discussions are concluded, I'm sure."

"The document is in Welsh, I'm afraid," the old man replied with an apologetic smile, "but I'd be happy to translate if you would like."

"That may not be necessary," Gaius said. "Although I admit to being a little rusty in the language nowadays." Geoffrey smiled and nodded in response, indicating that Gaius should take the seat to his left.

Arthur was both surprised and delighted to see Guinevere enter the room, his eyes following her progress as she moved forward to take the centre seat on the paler of the three sides with Leon sitting on her right and Geoffrey to her left. Merlin was sitting in the middle of the side with the redder wood whilst Arthur was asked to sit in the centre of the third with Percival on his right. Gwaine made up the ninth member of the group, sitting to Arthur's left.

"Is there a reason for this particular seating arrangement?" he asked, carefully noting everyone's positions, but Balinor just gave him one of his usual polite smiles and ignored the question, instead calling the meeting to order.

"Gaius, perhaps you would like to start and tell us what it is that King Uther proposes?" the Welsh prince began.

There seemed to be no obvious logic to the seating arrangements, as far as Arthur could see, with each side of the table containing a mixture of English and Welsh born, different ages, and both locals and visitors. Arthur shook his head, putting off the puzzle for another day and attempting to concentrating on the meeting instead.

"King Uther sends his greetings to Balinor ab Ambrosius, Prince of Gwynedd and wishes to broker a peace deal," Gaius was saying.

"What are the king's terms?" Balinor responded, suddenly serious.

"To work together in the interests of both kingdoms. For each to promise not to attack the other and to offer assistance in defeating our mutual enemy."

"By 'mutual enemy', I assume you're referring to Powys?" the prince asked.

"Yes. Their attacks on England grow ever bolder. The alliance negotiated fifteen years ago is now ignored by this new prince, Cenred, who would seek total isolation from England."

Balinor gave Gaius one of his enigmatic smiles. "What makes Uther think that any kingdom of Wales would seek an alliance with England as opposed to independence from it?"

Arthur was watching Balinor closely throughout. The man had a constant smile on his face; a small, gentle one – quite unlike the beam he'd seen when talking about his castle or laughing over some joke at the High Table last night. There was no aggression in his countenance – the man oozed sophistication and charm – but there was a hint that he was privy to some big secret that no-one else was aware of. A quick glance at Merlin showed a similar expression. _Very_ similar.

"You are a smaller and isolated land," Gaius reasoned. "Even as a whole country you do not have the contacts or resources that England has, never mind this individual kingdom. Working together would be in your best interest too. If you announce Uther as your liege king, you would receive the official title of 'Prince of Wales'. You would keep dominion over Gwynedd and, perhaps in time, the whole of the country."

"That seems like a very generous offer," Balinor replied carefully. "Almost _too_ generous. His smile turned sly. "What's the catch?"

"There are many further points for negotiation, it's true," Gaius continued, unable to hide the slight wince. "There are a number of issues that we can discuss further: Alliances, treaties …"

"... Magic?"

"It's true that the issue of religion is something that King Uther is very keen to discuss, believing that Christianity is the only true and righteous path."

"Unfortunately there is much about the Druid faith that ties into our heritage – our very essence," Balinor stated, running his hand over the wood on the table in front of him. "Very much like this table, it defines us."

"Uther is quite adamant that Christianity is the only worthy religion, does not approve of the Druidic faith and does not believe that true magic exists," Leon commented sternly.

Balinor just smiled, apparently more amused than offended by knight's assertions. "You can say there is no such thing as rain, Sir Leon but, when you come to Wales, you will still get wet."

"You're telling me," Arthur muttered, secretly pleased to note the hastily muffled giggles from Gwaine, Merlin and Guinevere in response to his comment.

"Perhaps the matter of religion can be an issue that we put on hold until some later date?" Gaius suggested, throwing a small frown in the direction of the younger members around the table.

"Uther is prepared to continue these talks without forcing the issue at this point?" the prince asked.

"He is, yes," Gaius replied. "Are you prepared to continue knowing that the subject will be raised again in the future?"

Balinor held his gaze, his smile disappearing briefly before suddenly returning even more brightly. "Yes, do let us continue. Let us see what other benefits and deals we can broker and perhaps, in time, those previous issues may seem less important when seen as part of the bigger picture."

Gaius just nodded calmly and Arthur let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. This was exactly what they'd hoped would happen but it was a great relief for it to be confirmed, all the same.

"Then, perhaps we should move onto the matter of military support," Gaius said. "King Uther is prepared to offer a large number of knights and soldiers to help boost your numbers during your campaigns. I understand you are currently attempting to gain a kingdom to the west?"

"Meirionnydd, yes."

Arthur threw a confused look towards Gwaine who gave a short bark of a laugh as he noticed it.

"I believe young Lancelot is remembering my introduction last night and wonders why someone from that kingdom would be here supporting its takeover."

"Why are you?" Leon asked him.

"Oh, all sort of interesting reasons, that I won't bore you with here. For now, let's just say that I don't approve of Meirionnydd's choice of heir and think Wales stands a much better chance uniting under Balinor's rule then being at constant war for no good reason."

"And you get to administer the territory if Balinor is successful?" Arthur guessed. Gwaine smirked in response but didn't answer the question.

"A moot point in any case seeing we do not hold the land at this time," Balinor interrupted abruptly. "However, Meirionnydd isn't an issue that needs to be brought to this table at all, as I can assure you that I've got it all in hand. No, what interests me far more is what support you can offer me in regards to Powys. Fighting two different borders at the same time is never the best idea, but it's one I have no choice on."

"You want to gain Powys too?" Percival asked, but Balinor shook his head.

"It would not be impractical to try as, at this point in time, the kingdom is far too large and powerful. However, there is that strip land to the east that you had to cross in order to reach here. That is currently under Powys' control and inconveniently separates my kingdom from Uther's."

"Ah, I see," Gaius replied thoughtfully. "And what would Uther gain by helping you earn that territory?"

"Apart from making travelling between our lands very much safer for your men? Well, we would also be prepared to negotiate some of that disputed land with Uther if he helps me to acquire it."

Arthur glanced at Gaius to note that he appeared to be as surprised by such a generous offer as he was but, ever the diplomat, the old man's response was calm and measured. "That seems a fair first point to offer then: English knights to help make safe the disputed Marches between our two kingdoms."

"Ownership of said land to be negotiated at a later date," Geoffrey interjected smoothly. Balinor and Gaius nodded in response and both Leon and Geoffrey scribbled the point down on a piece of parchment.

There was more talk of numbers and arms and strategy, even though much of it continued to be put off 'until a later date'. In fact, it was quickly decided that a follow up meeting would soon need to take place in Camelot itself, with these rough proposals put directly to King Uther for further reflection and consideration.

"Will you be travelling back to England with us, my lord?" Gaius asked Balinor at the end of the discussion.

"Unfortunately, just like Uther, I cannot risk leaving my kingdom right now, not with these two hostile kingdoms demanding my attention. However, I will send some trustworthy people back with you to take part in the negotiations. In fact, I will do more than that; I shall offer two of them as insurance, as is the custom in Wales. I believe your king is familiar with that idea?"

"Indeed," Gaius replied.

Balinor paused, giving another small smile. "Tell me, does Uther still keep Morgana ferch Gorlois of Powys safe?"

Gaius also paused, raising an eyebrow. "She has been the king's ward for the last twelve years now, yes."

"An interesting family that. One of the biggest threats to my campaign," Balinor continued.

"I can assure you that Morgana is of no threat to you or to these negotiations," Gaius insisted. "She's been living with us in England since she was seven years old."

"No, no, I understand," Balinor replied hastily. "I meant no disrespect by my comment. Its just... a noble family that. Strong blood ties." Arthur noticed _that_ smile playing on Balinor's lips again and wondered where this was leading. "I know Gorlois had originally hoped for a marriage alliance between her and King Uther's young son. It is unfortunate that she does not hold quite the same power since Prince Caradog first took the throne for himself?"

Arthur tried to hide his surprise on hearing this. He'd grown up with Morgana as a sister and knew of her Welsh connections, of course, but had always assumed she'd been kept in Camelot as a favour to her late father. He had to admit that it hadn't crossed his mind that there had been more politically based reasons for his father's generosity.

"Well, that may depend a lot on what happens in Wales over the next few years," Gaius continued carefully, apparently entering into some subtle bartering. "Uther is currently negotiating with a number of high profile English families in regard to both his son's and ward's future happiness."

"I imagine there would be very many interested parties," Balinor replied carefully. "But, perhaps there may soon be some _new_ alliances offered?"

"_Welsh_ alliances?" Gaius queried, the two now apparently participating in some political dance that Arthur barely understood.

"What better way for Uther to gain a genuine foothold in Wales in the future?"

Gaius was frowning, exchanging a confused look with Leon before quickly continuing. "Exactly what alliances might you be offering here?"

"Another point for later, perhaps," Balinor replied quickly and nodded to Geoffrey, subtly indicating that he should make note of something. "For now, perhaps I could go back to the previous point about insurance. I would like to suggest that Guinevere ferch Thomas ap Leodegrance of Penllyn journeys back to Camelot with you," he finished, indicating Gwen.

"Oh, I'm sorry, were we _not_ talking about insurances before that?" Gaius asked slyly and Balinor smiled in response, obviously enjoying this game they were playing.

Arthur remembered last night's conversation and Guinevere's comment about Balinor wanting her as far away from Penllyn as possible. Apparently he meant that literally. He wasn't just sending her to England for Uther's insurance but also for his, in order to make sure his enemies did not get hold of her and use her bloodline against him, but was he also offering her as a marriage prospect? His heart started beating at the thought, even though he knew she was unlikely to be offered to him. As a deposed princess of a very minor Welsh kingdom, she was of even less value politically than Morgana.

~o~0~o~

"I admit that I only followed some of that," Arthur commented when they got back to Gaius' chambers.

"Me too," Percival agreed, "Although I do believe this Balinor is a sly one. Some of those suggestions were quite a surprise."

"It does seem rather too good to be true, doesn't it?" Gaius admitted thoughtfully. "I admit that I wasn't expecting it to be sorted so quickly either. The potential offering of any land gained in The Marches was definitely a surprise. As was the offering of a hostage."

"But _is_ she a hostage, really?" Leon questioned.

"Well, probably not. I do believe Balinor has ulterior motives in sending Guinevere to Camelot with us."

"Such as?" Arthur asked.

"It seems he's offering her as a marriage prospect for you, Arthur," the old man replied with a smile. "Although, he must know that Uther would never agree to such a match."

"So, why is he pushing for it?" Leon asked.

"I wish I knew," Gaius replied with a large sigh.

~o~0~o~


	4. Uniting The Dragon

**Chapter 4: Uniting The Dragon**

Their stay in Wales was a relatively short one, as Balinor had an urgent need to attend to his borders, and all were keen for the second phase of talks to begin in Camelot so the deals could be quickly resolved. They had all but confirmed the point about the extra men required to claim the strip of borderland and so, the sooner the party left for England, the sooner everything could be finalised and the knights dispatched.

Despite such urgency, Balinor's farewells were extended and courteous with gifts and long, polite compliments exchanged as the Englishmen waited outside the castle for their horses to be brought to them.

The rain had stopped for the time being; a watery sun trying its best to make a late appearance, whilst a brisk wind continued to confuse the issue, randomly moving the grey clouds back and forth and making the morning feel even colder that it had seemed when they'd first stepped outside.

The familiar sound of hooves on cobbles grabbed Arthur's attention and he turned to see grooms bringing their horses over, all saddled and ready to go. The English knights attended their mounts instantly, checking the saddle bags and adding their own personal belongings whilst they waited for the final members of the party to arrive. In addition to the twenty that had initially made the journey west, three other horses were now being lead out, and Arthur found himself making judgements about the riders before they appeared – carefully studying the animals and tack for clues.

There was one large, sturdy looking mare – the perfect animal for a less accomplished rider – standing patiently between two far superior animals; better than any that Arthur had seen so far in this part of the world. The smaller one would be for Guinevere, he was certain, but the other was a taller horse than most he'd seen in Wales; a dark animal with an ornate saddle that suggested a high status owner.

"Ready then?"

Arthur turned to see Merlin approach, a saddle bag over his shoulder and the usual cheeky grin plastered on his face. Guinevere trailed behind him, dressed in brown trousers and a fur tunic showing under her Welsh cape – quite a contrast from the elegant clothes he had seen her wearing so far.

"What? You're coming with us?" he asked, quite unable to hide his shock.

"Oh yes, didn't Balinor say?" Merlin replied with a cheeky grin. "I'm the other half of the insurance."

"_You_ are?"

Merlin laughed loudly at his disbelief. "Apparently it's best if I'm kept out of public sight for a while too."

"Well, _that_ makes sense," Arthur replied with a grin, "but I fail to see what _we_ would gain from your presence."

"Thanks for that, Lancelot. I'll have you know that I'm a highly valuable hostage."

"If you say so, _Mer_lin."

"Have you not worked out who he is yet?" Guinevere whispered as the tall young man went to add the last bags to his mount. Arthur frowned, shaking his head. "I mean, there _is_ a certain resemblance. At least, I think so."

That was when it hit him. Hadn't he kept thinking how familiar Merlin looked at times. "He's Balinor's son?" he whispered.

"Yes and so, not only is he safer in England as I am, but he'll also be a vital part of the negotiations."

"In what way?"

"Oh, take him out from Balinor's shadow and he becomes quite a formidable presence." She gave him a knowing smile. "You'll be surprised at just how authoritative and knowledgeable Merlin can be when put under pressure."

"I thought Geoffrey would be the main negotiator?"

"No, he'll be Merlin's advisor. He'll be tutoring him hard to be certain he knows what to say and how to act, of course, but Balinor trusts Merlin implicitly, even more than Geoffrey to be honest."

"So, _that's_ what he was talking about before. He kept hinting that he was not the typical warrior but that doesn't mean he's of any less use to Balinor."

"Be careful not to take anything Merlin says too literally, Lancelot, and be aware that certain words can have very specific meaning to those that follow the Druidic ways."

"What words?"

"Well, 'warrior' is one for a start."

"I don't understand."

Gwen just shrugged. "I better get to my horse." She stared at the animal for a long while before moving towards it with a sigh. "It's not that I don't like riding," she commented, "but this is going to be a very long and uncomfortable journey, I imagine."

"We are not in that much of a hurry, Guinevere, I'm sure we can find the time to take plenty of breaks, for Gaius and Geoffrey's sakes as much as for you and Merlin."

She laughed at that. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about Merlin on that account either."

"Oh?"

"Trips over his own feet most of the time, it's true, but wait until you see him on a horse."

~o~0~0~

Guinevere had been correct Arthur mused as the party finally mounted their horses after the treacherous walk back down the steep hill. Once on his tall stallion, all those long limps and clumsiness seemed to become a help to Merlin rather than a hindrance. An expert horseman himself, Arthur tried to analyse what it was about the Welshman's riding style that seemed so comfortable, but found it hard to pinpoint. The boy seemed to be one with the animal somehow and had the knack of communication that Arthur had never managed to master. Despite his overall skill, the prince would often find his horse suddenly going off in its own direction, apparently picking up on any distraction that the prince was experiencing at the time. Merlin, however, seemed to be able to chatter aimlessly, or even doze in the saddle and his horse never once seemed to become confused. Arthur contemplate asking for some advice but quickly decided that he'd never live it down.

Travelling back through Wales was a challenge as usual but, as the land levelled out and they moved further east, the group started to make better time, especially as Guinevere and Geoffrey became reacquainted with their riding ability.

As they crossed the border, Arthur found himself at the front of the party with Gaius, whilst Merlin and Gwen chattered away to each other in Welsh behind him, and so he decided to use their distraction to ask the old man the question that had been troubling him for some time.

"When are we going to tell them?"

"Tell them what?" Gaius asked, his own attention pulled away from the pair's conversation.

"Who I am. I understand the reason for the deception when we were in Wales, but they're going to find out sooner or later and I'd rather they heard it from me than my father or some random stranger."

Gaius seemed to consider this for a while. "Let's just wait until we reach the outskirts of Camelot, then I'll be happy for your safety and it'll give them a chance to get used to the idea."

"I hope you're right about that," he replied.

So, on the last night's camp before they reached home, Arthur took his two new friends to one side, handed them each a mug of the mead that had been gifted to him by Balinor and took a deep breath.

"I have something to tell you," he began. "A confession, an apology of sorts."

"Oh?" Merlin asked.

"My name is not Lancelot. I was just using it to ensure my safety as we travelled."

"Oh! I don't believe it!" Merlin exclaimed with a laugh.

"What?" Guinevere asked, obviously confused.

"You're the prince, aren't you? You're Arthur?"

Guinevere stopped her horse abruptly. "What!"

"Yes, you don't seem surprised," Arthur said to Merlin.

"Balinor said there was something about you. He said you had a … presence and I have to admit that I felt it too."

"You could have told _me_ that," Guinevere complained, turning stormy eyes towards Merlin before suddenly glaring at Arthur. "And _you_ could have at least hinted at something rather than leading me on like that."

"I was under strict instructions not to give my true name," he told her softly. "I hated lying to you – both of you – honestly I did, but I really didn't have any choice in the matter."

"Well, I can see that." Merlin seemed to accept the situation quickly. "If Powys had learnt you were in Wales..." Gwen just shrugged at the comment before wandered off without another word.

"What did you mean when you said you felt a presence?" Arthur asked Merlin, even as his eyes followed Guinevere's figure into the night.

"Presence is probably not the right word," Merlin continued thoughtfully. "Connection would be more accurate, I think."

Arthur shook his head, still not understanding. "You are a very odd person, Merlin."

The Welshman noticed where his gaze was lingering and smiled gently in understanding. "Gwen's not cross about the deception as such, Lan … Arthur." He shook his head at the stumble. "She's just upset about what it means."

"What _does_ it mean?"

"She was all prepared to hate you when you met officially. Prepared to hate Arthur, I mean. She knows we are planning to offer a marriage proposal to your father, but is equally aware that we don't expect him to accept."

"No," Arthur replied with a sigh, having already come to the same conclusion.

"Lancelot however..." Merlin continued. "A young, noble-born knight of Camelot would indeed be a good match for all parties concerned."

"There is no Lancelot though."

"Exactly. For some mad reason, the girl seems to like you and that is why she's so confused and upset."

"Yes, I can see that." Arthur's eyes turned once more to the dark figure hunched over the fire and he sighed loudly, wishing things could be different.

~o~0~o~

Arthur thoroughly enjoyed seeing the Welsh reaction to Camelot Castle as they approached. Standing tall and proud and dwarfing everything else in the landscape; natural and man made, it truly was an amazing sight.

"Beautiful," Guinevere gasped.

"A bit different from Dinas Emrys, isn't it?" Merlin whispered in awe.

"Very, although your castle is no less spectacular," Arthur conceded.

"The scenery perhaps, but this … this is something very different." Merlin suddenly frowned as his eyes travelled skyward.

"What?" Arthur asked, noticing his distraction.

"That raven …"

He followed Merlin's gaze to see a small black dot, heading east. "Is it?"

"It's flying straight for Camelot."

"So?"

Merlin shook his head. "Nothing. I'm sure it's not important."

~o~0~o~

Once they'd entered through the Gatehouse, the majority of the knights made their way directly to the stables whilst the main members of the party continued forwards into a large, open square and headed for the steps, where Arthur could see his father waiting with a number of important people.

"Who … is … that?"

Arthur tuned towards Merlin, surprised by the awe he heard in the young man's voice to see him staring open mouthed towards the stairs. The Welshman looked more stunned than he had on seeing the castle and the prince was momentarily confused, following his gaze a couple of times before realising who it was he was looking at.

"That? Oh, that's just Morgana."

"What!" Merlin's horse stopped abruptly, although Arthur hadn't seen its rider give any signal. "It … it can't be."

"What are you talking about? Of course it is. I've grown up with her for the last twelve years so I should know. What's the matter Merlin? Why so shocked?"

"It's just … I hadn't expected her to be so..."

He saw the young man turn to Guinevere, still stunned, and she gave him an amused smile in reply.

"What?" Arthur asked again.

"Beautiful," he breathed and the prince laughed, suddenly understanding.

"Don't be fooled by her looks, Merlin. She's not the delicate flower that she appears to be. Tongue sharper than a sword and she eats men twice your size for breakfast."

"Yes, but..."

"Best close your mouth. You don't want my father thinking that you really _are_ an idiot, do you?" he concluded, just as the party reached the steps and quickly dismounted.

"Arthur, you have returned promptly. I do hope all is well?" Uther said, coming forward.

"Yes, Father, the negotiations were a great success," he replied, bowing himself and prompting the others to do the same – Guinevere giving the most elegant curtsey.

"And you have brought guests with you."

"Yes. Father, I have the great honour of introducing, Geoffrey of Monmouth, Guinevere of Penllyn and Merlin of Gwynedd." They had decided to keep the introductions simple at this point, and not just because Arthur still found the long Welsh names and titles confusing.

"It is good of you to travel all this way," Uther said with a smile, his eyes flicking between the three, trying hard to hide the hint of confusion. The old man would ordinarily be the one the king would consider the leader, but Merlin had been announced of Gwynedd, which obviously made things more complicated.

Arthur noticed with amusement that Merlin eyes were still drawn to Morgana, seemingly against his will and, perhaps unexpectedly, Uther's ward seemed equally focused on the young Welshman. Unconvinced that Merlin wasn't the type that would normally elicit such attention from this particular young lady, Arthur debated what it might be that was interesting her. Perhaps she too was just curious about the Welsh visitors – doubly so, seeing that these were her own country men.

Merlin _should_ be considered 'unremarkable'. There was nothing about him that one could to describe as handsome, powerful or charismatic and yet, that is exactly what Arthur felt whenever he looked at the young man. It didn't make any sense to him but, perhaps that was what Morgana was sensing too. Perhaps there was something rather more to Merlin than first met the eye.

~o~0~o~

As the party were escorted into the smaller council hall, it quickly split into informal groups; Uther, Gaius, Geoffrey and Leon moving together, exchanging more pleasantries, whilst the younger five moved to the opposite side of the hall.

"This is the lady Morgana, formerly of Powys," Arthur began.

"Oh, Arthur, honestly, you _always_ get that wrong," she complained. "I _am_ of Powys. I was born there. That fact can never change." She turned to the others and raised her eyes. "Forgive the prince's lack of understanding. I am Morgana ferch Gorlois ap Madog of Powys."

Arthur noticed the two Welsh nod on hearing this introduction, whilst Percival threw another confused look at Arthur.

"Ferch means 'daughter of', just as ap refers to the son," Guinevere explained kindly. "So, from Morgana's introduction I now know who her father and grandfather are and what kingdom she was born into."

Merlin then stepped forward with the smallest hint of a bow and rattled off a couple of Welsh sentences that sounded rather more elegant than any the prince had heard so far – definitely _not_ a mere introduction.

"Fy Arglwyddes, rwy'n credu fod Rhiannon Duwies y Lleuad yn sefyll o fy mlaen. Mae eich gwalld ddunos a'ch llygaid emrallt yn ysbrydoli ac yn denu, mae'n glir na all yr un bôd marwol ddyheu at fath brydferthwch."

To Arthur's surprise Morgana actually blushed, before biting her lip in an uncharacteristic show of nerves and replying with rather less confidence than her introduction.

"Diolch am eich teyrnged, syr _… _and you'll excuse me if I speak mostly in English from now on," she continued, suddenly switching languages, "but I'm afraid I left Wales when I was just seven years old and have forgotten most of what I learnt there as a result."

"Did you understand what I said?" Merlin asked gently,

She smiled. "I got the general idea and I thank you for the compliment."

Arthur again looked questioningly at Gwen who smiled knowingly. "Merlin can be very poetic when he has a mind." She lowered her voice even further. "I do believe he is smitten."

"You could certainly learn a lesson or two from Merlin in the correct way to compliment a lady, Arthur," Morgana said haughtily. "Now, will you two do me the honour of giving me _your_ full names?"

Guinevere had just finished saying hers – Arthur now listening more carefully to pick up the relevant names, when Uther called them over and asked them to sit at the rectangular table to start the initial meeting. Arthur's immediate thought was how much plainer this council table was than the last one he'd sat around, and he got the impression that the others that had been in Wales were thinking the same thing – small smiles playing on all their faces as they took their seats.

~o~0~o~

* * *

_**A/N: **Thanks for all your lovely comments so far. Sorry that I forgot to put this translation in for you yesterday. Here's my original request to Kat. The words in brackets didn't quite work in Welsh and so she played around with them a little. (Blackness of the night) (lure)_

"My lady, I do believe the Moon Goddess Rhiannon stands before me. Your (midnight) hair and emerald eyes both (entrance) and inspire, and it's clear that no mere mortal could aspire to such beauty."


	5. White Wedding

_**A/N: **Thanks to Haley Renee for asking me about the translation for Merlin's compliment last chapter. Sorry, I should have put it in. I've now added it into the Chapter 4 notes. Most other Welsh conversations will either be explained later or are pretty obvious._

* * *

**Chapter 5: White Wedding**

"I hope you don't mind if we begin these talks straight away?" Uther asked. "I have requested food and drink for you all, but Gaius informs me that you camped close by last night and that he and Geoffrey are well rested." The king glanced over at Guinevere, and she nodded in response, quietly replying that she was not at all tired either.

Uther then introduced the Welsh guests to the English lords present, including Arthur's uncle Agravaine, before inviting Gaius to open the meeting. The old man spoke in a clear and authoritative voice, giving Uther a general report on their trip and some vague outlines on the issues they were to negotiate further; in particular the key point about the disputed area between Gwynedd and England.

"And when we speak of 'alliances' I assume you are referring to marriages between our two kingdoms?" Uther guessed and, despite what Guinevere had told Arthur earlier about Merlin leading the talks, it was Geoffrey that started to reply at that point whilst the dark haired young man's eyes remained firmly fixed on the table in front of him.

"That is correct," Geoffrey replied. "There is one union in particular that we believe will be of great benefit to these peace talks."

"I already have plans for my son's future happiness," Uther interjected, looking pointedly at Gwen, "and was under the impression that Balinor had no daughters that he could use for such negotiations anyway."

"That is correct, Your Majesty," the old man continued. "Guinevere is here because of her value to Balinor, both as a Welsh princess and as insurance for our co-operation. We are fully aware that her position may not be high enough for someone of Prince Arthur's status, but would be keen to become involved in any future negotiations concerning him or any other young lords within Camelot, if you do not have any serious objections to such a request?"

Uther paused, turning to look at Gwen more closely, "A princess, I see," he said then, nodding firmly. "So, who else were you talking about if not Guinevere?"

"Your ward, Morgana, who is Welsh herself."

Arthur glanced over to see the lady in question raise her eyes to the ceiling, and grinned at the reaction, more than aware of her previous complaints about marriage alliances. Uther appeared to be considering the suggestion carefully before eventually giving a curt nod.

"Yes, I had originally kept Morgana safe with an eye on a future union between Powys and England but, alas, that was not to be." Arthur shook his head, surprised at how casually his father was confirming something that he had only recently realised.

"However, a marriage alliance between her and Gwynedd would indeed be of great benefit to all concerned," Geoffrey insisted.

"How so?" Agravaine asked.

"Such an alliance would give Gwynedd a legitimate claim over Powys through marriage, and any treaty between Balinor and yourself would only be strengthened by such a connection."

"Through Balinor's son?" Uther guessed.

"That is correct."

Arthur looked over towards Merlin to see the young man appeared even paler than usual, his eyes still on the table as he worked hard not to make eye contact with anyone. Belatedly the prince began to understand the young man's earlier reaction; Merlin had obviously known he was to be offered to the Welsh princess and had tried not to raise his hopes – probably expecting someone old or plain. Now Arthur understood why the young Welshman had looked quite so surprised when he'd first seen her and why he appeared to be so nervous now. Whatever else he might think of Morgana, there was no denying she was very beautiful and there were many that might consider her rather too good for someone like Merlin. All the same, he hadn't been joking about her temperament. Looks weren't everything and the king's ward was definitely _not_ the easiest person to get along with.

"Do I not get any say in this?" Morgana asked Uther with a pout and Arthur smiled as she confirmed his own silent musings. She, of course, had not realised who it was she was going to be offered to and Arthur had to admit that he was looking forward to seeing her reaction when she did eventually discover the truth.

"You've made your feelings about all these English suitors quite plain," Uther said to Morgana. "Perhaps a Welsh husband would be more to your liking?"

"That rather depends on the husband," she retorted.

Arthur couldn't help a laugh from escaping, earning glares of different sorts from various parties. "Sorry," he replied with a grin, seeing if he could gain Guinevere's attention but she, apparently, was still ignoring him.

"A few years ago I would have dismissed this offer instantly," Uther admitted, "but there are a number of reasons why I shall seriously consider it now. However, let's put that to one side for the moment so we can discuss something of far more importance to me. The matter of religion."

Merlin seemed to spring to life then, sitting upright and talking with sudden authority. "It has been suggested that the subject is put on hold for the time being," he informed the king. "Its outcome dependant on the other deals struck here."

"That sounds very much like a refusal to me," Uther replied.

"Prince Balinor is beholden to the Druid elders in much the same way as you are to the Christian priests," Merlin explained. "More to the point, he is currently negotiating some territory with other princes and lords, rather than attempting to win it by force. Announcing such a thing at this point in time is likely to loose him much of his current Welsh support and that, in turn, would devalue any future alliance between Gwynedd and England."

"A similar excuse was given to me fifteen years ago when I began negotiations with Powys."

"That is probably because the situation is true of the whole of Wales, Your Majesty. We are a Druidic country and changing that fact will not be easy."

"What about the matter of magic? Can that be discussed at least?"

Merlin winced. "It is rather difficult to separate the two, I'm afraid."

"It's just some superstitious trickery though. Surely certain … practises can be banned in Wales before such time as a widespread conversion takes place."

Merlin shook his head sadly. "It is not as simple as that, Your Majesty."

"Why not?"

"Asking a Druid not to practise magic is rather like asking a priest not to pray."

"You're not serious?"

Merlin held his gaze, tipping his head to one side. "It is a fairly accurate analogy, Sire."

"Well, I should inform you now that there will be no Druidic 'praying' whilst you are resident in Camelot, as all forms of magic are banned here. Do I make myself clear?"

Arthur was looking straight at Merlin and saw a sudden darkness cross the usually light-hearted young man's features, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Very clear, Your Majesty," he replied.

"In fact, you should all make yourself acquainted with our religion and customs whilst you are with us. I assume your reading of English is as accomplished as your speech?"

Merlin glanced at Arthur then, subtly raising an eyebrow in a way that managed to conv his awareness that that was about a big a compliment as he was likely to get from someone like Uther.

"I would be honoured, Sire," Merlin replied. "Although I should say that I have read many of your Christian texts, already."

"Indeed?" Uther was unable to hide his surprise.

"Oh yes, I was especially interested in the accounts of the various _miracles _contained within the chronicles."

Across the table, Morgana gave a loud cough, obviously attempting to hide a laugh, whilst Geoffrey glared at Merlin for his cheek and Gwen and Gaius exchanged amused glances. Uther just nodded politely and Arthur wasn't at all sure that the king had understood the implication. _"What?"_ Merlin mouthed innocently on seeing the various reactions aimed in his direction.

Arthur came to the conclusion that the longer he spent in Merlin's company, the less he seemed to know him.

~o~0~o~

After that first meeting, the guests were shown up to their chambers and Arthur also went upstairs, keen to seek out a hot bath. Just as in Wales, there would be a banquet tonight in honour of their visitors, but at least this time he was on home soil and rather more confident about the evening as a result.

As soon as he arrived in the Great Hall, Arthur quickly sought out Guinevere, bowing deeper than was required considering their ranks, and working hard to keep his speech as modest as possible.

"I wish to apologise again for any deception," he started. "I hated having to lie to you, and causing you distress was the very last thing I wanted, I do hope you realise that."

She sighed. "I know. I do understand and..." She bit her lip. "It's not that I blame you, as such, only that it's difficult to know how to interact with you now."

"Need there be any change?" he asked.

"Yes, there's every need, Your Highness." He winced at the brashness of her comment. "I know we cannot help who we fall for but, when I thought you were just a knight, I had hope that we could continue to develop our relationship. Even as a deposed princess I might have some standing amongst _Welsh_ royalty, but your father has made it clear that a marriage between us would be impossible and, to be honest, I'm not sure that I would feel comfortable in the role as English queen anyway."

"Why not? You'd be wonderful."

"Arthur, that isn't helping."

"No, you're right. I'm sorry." There was a long silence. "Ah so, changing the subject, I wonder if I might ask you a favour?"

"You may ask, certainly."

"It's nothing serious. Just a silly thing really, regarding Morgana."

"How can I help?"

~o~0~o~

The main part of the evening was a large, formal banquet but afterwards, as was typical of such celebrations, the gathering quickly became more casual; people moving seats whilst some danced to the music in the open space in the centre of the hall. Arthur inevitably found himself back in the company of Morgana, Merlin and Guinevere and, as planned, continued the earlier conversation about introductions that had been interrupted that afternoon.

"So, Morgana, you wanted to know our guests' full names?" he said with a large smile.

"Yes, well, I believe I caught Gwen's." She paused for a moment, thinking. "Guinevere ferch Thomas ap Leodegrance of Penllyn?"

"That is correct," the Welsh girl confirmed with a smile.

"So, I thought perhaps I could introduce Merlin," Arthur suggested with a big grin.

"You?" Morgana's scepticism was obvious whilst Merlin was looking at him very suspiciously.

"Morgana, may I introduce, Merlin ap Balinor ab Ambrosius of Gwynedd." He shot a glance to Guinevere who gave him a subtle nod, confirming her earlier lesson had been correctly remembered.

"Well, your accent's terrible," Morgana began, "but I suppose that wasn't too … Hang on!" She froze, staring first at Merlin who winced, and then back at Arthur, who smirked, quite unashamed at the shock he had just caused. "Did you say, ap Balinor?"

"Yes, that's right, isn't it, Merlin?"

"Ah, yes..."

"You're Prince Balinor's son?" Morgana said rather too loudly. "_You're_ the one I'm supposed to marry?"

"Ah..."

"Ridiculous," she scoffed, turning briskly and striding away with a swish of her skirts.

"Subtle, Arthur," Merlin complained. "Couldn't you have just let me handle things?"

"What by continuing to not tell her who you were? I tried that and it didn't work out well, did it?"

"No, but at least you were the one to tell us the truth." He sighed. "I suppose I'd better go and talk to Morgana and try and smooth things over. Thanks, Prat."

"He does have a point," said Guinevere. "I hadn't really thought about what you were going to do with that information when you talked to me earlier."

"Perhaps," he reluctantly conceded. "Although, despite my teasing, I think Merlin may be good for her. In fact, I believe he's probably _too_ good for her but I expect that's just years of sibling rivalry speaking."

"Sibling?"

"Well, not literally, of course, but that's how I've always viewed Morgana. Do you realised I had no idea that she originally came here to be my bride? I only found that one out in Wales. Today was the first time my father ever mentioned the fact in my presence."

"It is fairly typical of the way alliances are made in Wales."

"Well yes, I realise now that it makes... _made_ perfect sense but, all the same..."

"Well I admit that I find my own brother especially annoying so, it's not as if I don't understand your need to tease Morgana, but you must see how tough this is on her? Her marriage is practically decided upon already and, if Uther does confirm it, she'll be marrying Merlin pretty soon, I expect. Marrying someone she's only just met. It won't be easy for either of them."

"You're quite right, of course." He sighed. "I suppose I'd better go and say sorry then, although it's not something that Morgana is ever likely to let me live down."

Arthur wandered off in the direction he'd seen the pair go; words of apology on the tip of his tongue, when he heard gentle voices and instinctively slowed his step. He briefly saw the pair sitting on a large, low, stone window sill, Merlin holding Morgana's hands in his, their heads bowed towards each other, and quickly changed direction, moving behind a pillar so as not to disturb them.

"It's bad enough that our marriages have to be arranged," Merlin was saying, "but even worse when I'm … well, I'm not exactly the type of warrior you would have had in mind, I know."

"Thanks for believing me to be that shallow, Merlin."

"Sorry, I only meant..."

"You certainly made a good enough first impression with me – even considering my poor understanding of Welsh." There was a pause and Arthur imagined the two to be smiling, remembering whatever compliment he'd given to her when they'd first been introduced. "Anyway..." She lowered her voice even further. "I'm more than aware that certain people in Wales may have _other_ skills to help them with their fighting."

"Yes." Merlin's single word response seemed to hold a large amount of meaning.

"You're Red?" she asked, her voice full of awe. "_True_ Red?"

"You know about that?" Merlin sounded shocked and Arthur frowned, trying to work out exactly what was being talked about.

"Yes, because my mother was gifted in the art of Tri-Reading and I was told when I was very young."

"Told what, exactly?"

"That I'm true White."

"Ah, I see."

Red? White? Arthur knew very little about Tri-Reading other than it being a superstitious practice offered at fairs and markets, tempting the young and gullible to part with their hard earned coins, in return for telling the future or to choose a sweetheart. However, Arthur had a feeling that the pair were talking about something more significant in this case and had almost managed to grab the memory when he realised that they were talking in even quieter voices than before and he'd missed some of what was being said.

"...and I am _so_ afraid that Uther will find out, Merlin. Terrified, especially now. Especially when the … ability is maturing in me."

"Perhaps I can help you, Morgana."

"Are you sure because... if Uther ever found out." Arthur suddenly wished he'd been paying more attention.

"I can look after you now I'm here. As long as you're not totally against this proposal, then we can spend time together anyway and, if you accept me, there'll be plenty of time for us to talk about such things. You can come back to Wales with me later too and there we can find others to help you. Others far more experienced and knowledgeable than I am."

"Well, despite my earlier complaints, I admit that when Uther mentioned a Welsh marriage I did become rather more interested. I may have teased Arthur earlier for his mistake over what 'of Powys' means but it's something I feel anyway. I believe that Wales is where I truly belong, even though I've lived the majority of my life here in England."

"Then you will consider the offer?"

"Consider it?" She sounded surprised. "I shall accept it, Merlin, of course. I would be honoured to be your wife."

~o~0~o~


	6. The Red Dragon

**Chapter 6: The Red Dragon**

The wedding of Morgana ferch Gorlois ap Madog of Powys, to Merlin ap Balinor ab Ambrosius of Gwynedd was a lavish affair, with all the good and the great of Camelot and the neighbouring cities attending. The Welsh party had been here for less than a month but it seemed that the young couple had come to an understanding during that time and even the waspish Morgana began to mellow as the big day approached.

The ceremony was fairly typical of the way things were done in Camelot nowadays: Large, formal and long. _Very_ long. Trying not to yawn during that never ending afternoon was one of the hardest things that Arthur had ever had to do.

"Of course, this is only the _first_ wedding," Morgana informed him after the ceremony, when they had all gathered in the Great Hall for the post ceremony banquet.

"The first? All of that wasn't enough?" Arthur asked incredulously.

She laughed brightly at the shocked look on his face. "Well, Merlin wants to be married under Welsh law too, of course."

"Ah, I see. Better not tell Father about that bit."

"As if I would," she scoffed. "There's a lot at stake here politically, after all, and Merlin is happy to play the part of religious convert in order to help with the peace talks." She pulled a face. "He's a far better actor that I would have given him credit for."

"He's certainly not the open book he first seems," Arthur agreed and Morgana nodded absent-mindedly, her attention suddenly drawn to her new husband who was walking towards them with Guinevere on his arm.

"But you've no regrets?" Arthur asked quickly before the pair had reached them.

"I don't believe it was possible to get a better deal, to be honest," she replied, "and Merlin is certainly a far more pleasant prospect that any of the others suitors that Uther threw in my direction."

Morgana's response may have been practical and unemotional, but her smile seemed totally genuine as she moved forward to greet her husband, standing on tip-toes to kiss him gently on the cheek. Despite the relative innocence of the action, the young man's cheeks flamed a bright red as he turned a nervous glance towards Arthur who, in turn, raised his eyes to the ceiling at the Welshman's apparent bashfulness.

"Seeing what I caught the pair of you up to last week, I have no idea why you think _that_ might bother me, Merlin. Especially considering that you are actually married to her now."

"Ah, yes … sorry about that, it's just..."

"There's really no need to apologise to him, Merlin," Morgana said with a big smile. "I certainly don't have any regrets about that evening, as I said before."

"Well, it looks like everyone's seating themselves ready for the food," Guinevere interjected hurriedly, wisely deciding to change the subject. "I don't know about all of you, but my stomach thinks that a couple of days must have passed since I've last eaten – the ceremony was _so_ long."

"I think the priests have some competition going that they've not told us about," Arthur replied. "I think they're all trying to earn the title of 'longest wedding on record'." The other three laughed and Arthur took special pleasure from the way Gwen's eyes lit up at his little joke. He decided to use that as an excuse to offer his arm and escort her to the table – Merlin and Morgana walking beside them – and the intimate contact with her made him momentarily giddy.

"Well, the Welsh ceremony will definitely be more fun than this one, that's for sure," Merlin said with a grin and Gwen smiled back, although it was now her turn to blush.

"Oh, I have heard all sorts of interesting things about _those_ rites," Morgana whispered wisely.

"You don't mean…?" Arthur stared at the wicked grins on their faces. "I thought Father was exaggerating those stories – you know, propaganda?"

"Well, he might have been a little," Guinevere replied, "but I expect much of what he's heard is true."

"Well then, I should formally invite you to our second wedding, Arthur," Merlin continued with one of his usual broad grins. "Whenever Balinor calls me back home, that is. Then you can experience it for yourself."

"When you say 'experience'?" Arthur asked nervously, but received nothing but smirks from the other three in response.

~o~0~o~

After too much food and _definitely_ too much wine, Arthur staggered up to his chambers in the early hours of the morning, grateful for the fact that he was far too drunk to dwell on what Merlin and Morgana would be getting up to tonight.

However, despite the fact that the young couple had been especially cautious with their drinking and had retired much earlier than he had, the pair were nowhere to be seen late the following morning when Arthur stumbled down to the Great Hall for the weekly petitions, feeling as if his stomach was practising somersaults and his head was attempting to be a tambour. Why couldn't have his father postponed this meeting until the afternoon as Balinor had?

"Well then, Arthur, you look even worse than I feel," Uther commented on seeing his son. "So much for youth being able to handle their alcohol."

"I believe that depends on the amount of alcohol, Father," he retorted. "I'm not sure I've ever drunk that much, and I know I definitely won't be doing so again."

"The promise every man makes the morning after," Gaius commented sagely as Arthur took his place. "And, in my experience, not one than many manage to keep."

"No sign of Morgana and her new husband then?" Uther asked, looking around the Hall. "Oh well, perhaps we should forgive them for being otherwise occupied this morning?" He grinned wickedly and most of the Court laughed raucously in response. Arthur simply pulled a face, not sure his stomach could handle such thoughts. "So, let us make a start without them, shall we?" the king continued. "Who is the first?"

The morning petitions were almost as long and dull as the previous day's wedding. Almost. At least there were a few things of interest here and there, although being hung over certainly didn't help matters, despite Gaius managing to slip the prince a goblet of something half way through and insisting it would make him feel better. Seeing how awful it tasted, Arthur wasn't entirely convinced.

Somewhere near the end of the session, an elderly man shuffled forwards, almost bent double, with wisps of grey hair peeking out from under a dark, ragged hood. He made a poor attempt at a bow, wobbling precariously, and Gaius moved forwards to offer his support.

"It is not usual to sit in the King's presence but, perhaps an exception in this case?" the physician suggested. "Or at least a supporting arm?"

"My thanks, friend, I can stand well enough," the elderly man replied, although Arthur noticed that Gaius stayed close by, just in case.

"Very well," Uther called out. "What do you come to petition me about?"

"I come with tidings for the Court. Great tidings and a message for King Uther in Camelot," he announced in a surprisingly ringing tone.

"That is not usually the way things are done here."

"These are not usual times, Your Majesty, for the time of The Tricoloured Dragon is almost upon us."

"You cannot speak of such things here," Gaius warned in an urgent whisper.

The old man fixed the physician with a hard stare, tipping his head curiously. "You are Red and White with very little Gold in your nature, friend," he decided. "You should welcome my news."

"What is he on about?" Agravaine asked.

"He talks treason, your Majesty," another lord called out. "This is sorcery he speaks of."

"Tri-Readings," Leon said with a shrug. "Just superstitious fortune telling. It's hardly magic."

"It is but the truth," the man continued firmly. "My name is Kilgharrah and I am here to warn you to change your ways. The Tricoloured Dragon is here in this very castle. I felt its union last month and have journeyed many miles to fulfil my destiny."

"All aspects of magic and paganism are banned in Camelot," Uther stated forcefully. "Our laws are absolute. You have done yourself no favours in coming here, old man. Your own words condemn you and, as a result, I have no choice but to try you for your crimes."

"You are Gold," Kilgharrah informed Uther in a flat tone, apparently unconcerned by the pronouncement. "But it is a pale shade – barely yellow. For the traits of each colour are severely weakened if they are unable to reflect the other two."

"Enough!" Uther shouted. "Guards take this Kilgharrah and his talk of dragons away from my Hall."

"Your grief has maddened you and that infliction was always to be your fate," the man continued in a clear voice, as Arthur moved forward with Gaius to usher him outside. "I cannot change the nature of your doom but I can influence its time. I decree that my death will simply bring yours about sooner. In that way I have played my part as a servant of The Dragon. He will come to power far quicker now because of the events of today."

"Get … him … out!" Uther yelled, as Arthur took more of Kilgharrah's weight in order to speed up his removal. However, they were barely out of the door when the old man turned sharply, showing surprising strength as he pulled out of Arthur grip, and gazed up at the prince wide-eyed.

"You!" he gasped, his voice tinged with awe. "You too are Gold but _true_ Gold, reflecting the other colours and connecting with them. Using their strengths to enhance your own. You are what I seek."

"This Dragon? Don't be ridiculous."

Kilgharrah laughed, "No, not _the_ Dragon, but an aspect of him, certainly."

"What?"

"Take no notice, Arthur, you heard what your father said."

The old man turned to Gaius sharply. "You deny what you are, friend, you deny your strengths. Take care that you do not become as pale as Uther. Take care that you do not loose your shine."

"You're making no sense," Arthur complained.

"The others are here too, aren't they?" Kilgharrah continued his voice returning to one of awe – the lecturing tone gone as quickly as it had arrived. "I can sense that they are within Camelot and would hope to see them too before I die. You will grant me that request, won't you, Golden one?"

"What others?" Arthur asked as Kilgharrah was bundled into the cell.

"The Red and the White, of course," he replied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

~o~0~o~

Arthur arrived back in the Hall to find the petitions still in progress and, within moments of returning to his position, he felt movement at his shoulder and turned to see a grinning Merlin standing by his side.

"I gather I missed all the excitement," the young Welsh man commented.

"Yes, and I assume that I don't want to know _why_ you arrived quite so late today."

"I'm afraid I didn't get that much sleep last night," he replied with a smile.

"I said I _didn't_ want to know." Merlin muffled a laugh. "Anyway, it was just some old man causing trouble," Arthur continued. "Although, why he thought he could come into the heart of Camelot and start giving the king Tri-Readings, I have no idea."

"Tri-Readings?" Merlin frowned. "It's not a term I'm familiar with but … I can guess what you're talking about. That practice comes from the Druids, of course."

"Father was not impressed."

"I imagine not. It all stems from magic, after all. Ah, what did he say? The old man, I mean."

"I have no idea. He spoke in English, but it made less sense to me then when you speak in Welsh."

"I know the type." There was a long pause. "Perhaps I should go and talk to him. Find out if he has any other reason for being here. See if there's any further threat to your kingdom?"

Merlin's tone was light and innocent but Arthur turned sharply towards him then, quite certain he was play acting somehow.

"Why?"

"Well, we're allies now, aren't we? Brothers almost, considering the nature of your relationship with Morgana?"

"I suppose so, but you'd better wait until this is over. Father made a joke of you not being here on time, but it would look better if you at least paid a bit of attention to what's going on."

"Says you," Merlin replied, nodding to the front of the Hall where the petitions were still in progress.

"Idiot."

"Prat."

"Where's Morgana, anyway? I thought she was to attend this morning."

"Says she's too tired." Merlin grinned wickedly.

"I really don't want to know."

"You were the one who asked. Personally, I think she's been living amongst the English too long. No stamina."

"Merlin."

"That's all right. I'll make sure she gets plenty of practice from now on."

"Shut up, Merlin!"

~o~0~o~

The day after Kilgharrah was executed saw the King suddenly taken ill. Arthur called for Gaius who quickly recognised that magic was the cause and it wasn't long before they had located the source of the problem – a strange root hanging under the king's bed that was dripping some strange, black mud-like substance. Once thrown on the fire, the King began to recover and so Arthur left his father in Gaius' capable hands and quickly arranged a meeting with the senior lords to discuss the situation.

"It was obviously placed there by Kilgharrah," Agravaine said. "Didn't we all hear how he threatened the life of the king?"

"Yes but how did he leave it and when?" Arthur asked, unconvinced. "He would not have had access to the royal chambers before the petitions, and afterwards he was under lock and key and definitely couldn't have done the deed."

"He used magic, of course," Agravaine replied with a careless wave of his hand. "I'm sure that there can be no doubt of that here?"

With no other logical explanation, the matter was considered resolved and all attention turned to ensuring the king's health and care from that point onwards.

~o~0~o~

"We have received news from Wales that Geoffrey considers to be of great importance," Uther announced.

The king hadn't seemed quite himself since the discovery of the mandrake root under his bed, Arthur noted with concern. Gaius said there was no obvious signs of lasting damage, nothing physically wrong that he could determined, but it just seemed as if the King had lost a little of his edge recently; his voice was a little quieter, his commands having a rather less power behind them than before.

"Prince Lot of Meirionnydd has died," Geoffrey announced.

Arthur turned to Merlin and noted that the young man did not see at all surprised by this news. "I received a message from my father too," the young Welshman replied in response to the prince's quizzical look, "His death is not exactly unexpected, but the timing is not good for Wales as his preferred successor is still a child, and that can only mean one thing."

"War?" Leon guessed. Merlin nodded gravely.

"But, I thought you said that there wasn't the same right of succession there as there is over here?" Arthur commented. "I thought you said it was the strongest warrior that would take the throne."

"Ordinarily that would be the case, but the boy's mother, Morgause, has been preparing for this for a while now and has apparently made an alliance with Cenred of Powys behind her late husband's back."

Arthur heard Morgana take a sharp intake of breath at this comment but was far too distracted to give the reaction much attention.

"I take it that a union between Powys and this kingdom would not be good news for us?" Uther guessed.

"No, it would be disastrous," Merlin confirmed. "Powys already holds a larger territory than Gwynedd and, even with the additional gain of that Eastern land for our alliance, this union would mean more attacks along our borders and yours."

"What is Balinor's response?" Leon asked Merlin.

"He has stopped negotiating and started attacking," he replied and Arthur couldn't help but wonder how the young man had gained quite so much detailed information this quickly. "We do have Gwaine on our side though, of course, which will certainly be of help."

"Gwaine?" Arthur asked.

"Prince Lot's eldest son by his first marriage," Merlin explained. "He has a large number of supporters back home who are now coming over to our side as a result of this news."

"What? You didn't tell me that," Arthur accused.

"I thought you knew. That's why he's in Gwynedd with my father. As soon as Lot's second wife gave him this younger son, the old man announced that Mordred was The Dragon and so had the right of succession over Gwaine."

"This 'Dragon' again," Arthur mumbled.

"Yes, so, you can imagine that Gwaine wasn't too pleased about that – convinced that Morgause had enchanted his father or something. That's when he came over to us."

"Do you have to use such terms here, Merlin?" Uther asked in a shaky voice, his face pale.

"Sorry, Sire but, as I said at our very first meeting, these things are entrenched within our laws and customs and, in this case, the identity of The Dragon is key. All indications point to him being the one to rule the whole of Wales and Lot's death has just brought all of this superstition to the fore."

"So, you agree that it _is_ just superstition?" Uther pushed.

Merlin shrugged. "What I think is irrelevant, Sire. The Druids made their pronouncement yesterday. They have intervened directly in the matter of a succession and called a meeting of all candidates for the throne."

"They're allowed to do that?" Arthur asked.

"There is only one reason why they would," Merlin replied with a shrug. "Only one time when they _could_. They have officially announced the coming of The Tricoloured Dragon."

"I cannot accept this," Uther complained. "This is all about magic and superstition and is everything I wish to eradicate from Wales."

"Well, Balinor has called me and Gwen home and has invited Arthur to return with us too, if this is acceptable to you," Merlin responded calmly.

"Does he also request more of my men?" the king asked.

"No, Sire, there's no need whilst these negotiations are on. The Druid's pronouncement means a country wide truce and none will break it; not even Cenred."

"What about this Morgause?" Leon asked. "If she's a sorceress then she cannot be trusted, surely?"

"She is a devout follower of the Druidic ways, though. She too will play along, especially as she believes her son qualifies."

"Do you think it's true?" Arthur asked Merlin. "About her son?"

He shrugged. "Father believes there is more likely proposition."

"Gwaine." Arthur nodded, confident he was beginning to understand how things worked there now.

"Will you come back with us?" Merlin asked, and the prince turned a questioning glance at Uther.

"I would have suggested it anyway," the king replied. "I need people there I can trust. I need you and Leon in particular to put the English side of the argument forward. To fight for what is right. To fight against Paganism.

~o~0~o~

* * *

_**A/N: **I know I'm not adding as many notes as usual but, for once I'm ahead of myself and everything's pretty much sorted (hence the fast updates). However, it is great to get all your lovely PMs and reviews about this (and one is Welsh too! was wondering when that might happen :D ) and I will continue to reply to any questions you have for me although, typically I might get vague about potential spoilers. _


	7. Gold Conversion

_**A/N: **Warnings for nudity and minor sexual adult scenes in line with the T rating for this story._

* * *

**Chapter 7: Gold Conversion**

In the end it was decided that two parties would travel back to Wales. One fast group containing Merlin, Arthur, Morgana, Gwen, Leon and Percival, and another slower group of knights and supplies which included Gaius in their number. Arthur had tried to persuade the physician to stay behind to keep an eye on his father but Uther wouldn't hear of it, insisting his health was fine and that Gaius would be of far more use to him in Wales than in England. So, Arthur had a quiet word with Agravaine to ensure that his uncle would keep a close eye on the king and the court in general, and then very reluctantly left his father behind.

The first group of six made very fast time; Morgana being a good horsewoman and Gwen now well practised after her long journey in the opposite direction a few months before and very much more confident as a result.

They took a different road into Wales than they had the last time, one further south on the edge of the new border between Gwynedd and Powys crossing through Guinevere's home territory of Penllyn; now safe to travel on due to the truce.

"Balinor and Gwaine are going to meet us at Castell Carndochan, my old home," Gwen explained when Arthur questioned the change of direction.

"It makes more sense to meet there," Merlin added, "as it's on the direct route to the Druid encampment on the border of Meirionnydd and will save us precious time as a result."

"We'll be getting there in time for the solstice too, won't we?" Guinevere asked her friend.

"Yes, that _is_ especially good timing." Merlin called back, grinning broadly.

Arthur would have asked more about that but they were riding hard again, the wind and speed making further talk impossible.

Carndochan Castle was fairly similar to Dinas Emrys in that it too was build on a highly defensible crag in the middle of bleak but beautiful Welsh landscape – although the area was generally a lot less mountainous than further north and the castle looked considerably less bleak. Again the party dismounted and lead their horses up to the fort, following a narrow track that wound through brightly coloured heather covered hills intermingled with numerous sharp, exposed stones. As before, they were met at the summit by Balinor but, this time, the whole situation was far more informal with Gwaine and other couriers making up the welcoming party in addition to the usual warriors.

"Father!" Guinevere cried, suddenly dropping the reigns and running to a tall, broad man with an even darker complexion than her own. He gave a huge laugh as she approached, holding her arms out as if the daughter running towards him was a mere child rather than a fully grown woman. Balinor too came forward, pulling Merlin into an unashamed hug and Arthur's heart sunk as he observed the two reunions and compared them to his own father's rather more reserved welcome on his return to England.

The prince of Gwynedd introduced the other members of the party before turning towards him with a smile. "I believe I have the honour of introducing Prince Arthur to you, Thomas," he said, suddenly laughing, "Although that was definitely _not_ what he was calling himself the last time he was here."

"I apologise for the deception, my Lord," Arthur replied with a deep bow. "It was not considered safe for others to know who I was."

"A wise move. I did much the same in sending Merlin east without informing anyone of his trip but I can assure you that you are quite safe here now, Arthur. All will honour the Druids' Dragon Truce, you can be certain of that."

"Thank you," he said in reply because, honestly, he had no idea how to answer otherwise.

"It is indeed an honour to meet the great Prince of Camelot," Thomas said with a deep bow.

"Thank you," Arthur replied again, somehow convinced that there was some double meaning in the dark man's compliment.

"We have great celebrations planned for this evening," Guinevere's father continued. "I do hope you will all join us."

"Prince Arthur and his knights are Christians, Thomas," Merlin replied. "I'm sure they would wish to avoid such ceremonies."

"I _would_ rather avoid it, if that isn't considered impolite," Leon admitted.

Arthur frowned, considering. "King Uther has ordered me to observe and report," he replied. "So, I would be honoured to attend your ceremony, if you will have me."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Percival whispered urgently. "A _Druid_ ceremony?" Arthur just shrugged in reply.

"You are more than welcome, of course," Balinor replied with a huge smile and a deep bow, "Your attendance at such an event would do us all a very great honour."

~o~0~o~

It was sunset when Arthur walked out of the castle with Balinor, Thomas and a number of other middle aged and elderly men and women. Their destination was a large open clearing which held a blazing bonfire at its heart. The flames had already started to take hold and the fire was being constantly fed by a small army of children running back and forth with everything from tiny twigs to large oak branches.

"I don't believe I've ever seen a fire as large," Arthur commented.

"It is the summer solstice," Balinor explained. "A time of great importance in the Druidic calendar. One to rival Easter or the Advent in your country."

"Really?" Despite his rigid education, Arthur felt nothing but curiosity about this new culture – a willingness to learn.

His attention was suddenly drawn to a couple of young women walking past, wearing loose fitting white dresses that were so thin that they afforded him a very interesting view of their silhouettes as they walked in front of the raging fire. He began to think that coming here had been a very good idea after all.

"Many of your age are taking part, of course," Balinor was saying, "but you are welcome to simply stay here and observe." There was that smile again. Arthur just nodded, still distracted by the two young ladies.

Merlin came over to them then, also dressed in white; a loose fitting shirt hanging over thin trousers which looking especially baggy on his exceptionally slim frame. He bowed deeply to Balinor and the Welsh prince handed his son a goblet, smiling broadly. Merlin glared at the liquid for a moment before downing it quickly, wincing at the taste.

"May you find what you are looking for," Balinor intoned.

"I believe I already have, Father," Merlin replied with a broad smile, "but it will be interesting to see if the gods agree." He suddenly swayed on the spot, grabbing a nearby wooden pole. "Ooh!"

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"Strong stuff, this," Merlin replied, handing the goblet back to Balinor.

"You are welcome to sample this too, if you wish," the man said, holding another goblet out to the young prince. Arthur looked at the prince curiously.

"Father! What are you doing?" Merlin hissed.

"All are welcome to take the drink, and answer the question, if it is what they want."

"What are you up to?" his son asked, his tone now suspicious.

"What? You think I can't handle it, Merlin?" Arthur asked.

"It's not that simple," the young man replied firmly. "This is not your usual brew."

Arthur glared at him before grinning slyly, detecting a challenge and determined to rise to it. "I would be honoured to sample the drink, my Lord," he intoned, holding out a hand towards Balinor.

"And I am honoured to offer it to you. May you find what you are looking for."

Arthur took a big swig of the drink and, within moments, felt his the world start to sway before his eyes. "What is in this?" he asked but his words sounded strange even to him and, as he looked up, he could see no sign of Merlin in front of him.

Everything continued to move, and strange images and visions swum before Arthur's eyes. "What _is_ in this?" he repeated, staring at the half empty glass. He could not remember the answer he received, he only knew that he laughed at the reply and quickly downed the rest of the liquid in one go.

After that things started to become even more blurred and confusing.

Guinevere came over to Thomas, wearing the same, exceptionally thin dress he'd seen on the other two girls and her father also passed over a goblet and repeated the same words.

A Druid stood in front of the fire, talking in Welsh as various young people crowded around him and, the next thing Arthur was aware of was Merlin calling him over to join them; Guinevere on one side, Morgana on the other. Arthur began to understand why everyone else was wearing such thin outfits as the heat this close to the fire was almost unbearable and he quickly abandoned his own jacket and boots so that he was only in trousers and loose fitting shirt. Then Merlin pushed him forward as the Druid asked him what was obviously a question in Welsh.

"Pwy yr wyt ti'n dewis, Arthur ab Uther o Loegr? Beth yr wyt ti eisiau mwy na unrhywbeth arall?"

He was struggling to focus on the man at all and, in many ways the words made no sense to him but then Merlin translated, Arthur replied and, apparently happy with his answer, his friends dragged him closer to the fire in order for him to join them in their celebrations.

~o~0~o~

Arthur had never had such a vivid dream, nor such a pleasant one. Delightful images swum before him. Naked men and women dancing around the roaring bonfire. Pale skin and dark hair all around him. And warmth. Such warmth created by the blazing fire and the strange liquid he had consumed.

"Arthur?" He turned to find Gwen by his side, her dress now discarded; perfect, beautiful, naked and smiling as brightly as the fire in front of him.

"_P__wy wyt ti'n dewis?"_ The question seemed to transcend all languages and speak to his soul.

"Guinevere," he replied confidently. "_Always_ Guinevere."

~o~0~o~

"Arthur! Wake up." Merlin's impatient voice intruded on his erotic dream and he sat up with a grumble.

"What?"

"It's getting late and we need to leave for Meirionnydd." The young man was standing by the entrance of his tent wearing his usual clothes and looking perfectly well, although his cheeks were very slightly flushed.

"I had the most amazing dream," Arthur said with a sigh.

"One usually does after the Solstice ceremony," Merlin replied impatiently. "Look, you really do need to get dressed we're running a bit late here."

"I dreamt of Guinevere."

Merlin grinned. "I'm not surprised."

"You're not?"

"Well, it's always been obvious how you felt about her even before last night. What did you dream about? Or should I not ask."

"It was amazing. _She_ was amazing." He sighed.

Merlin laughed, "Yes, well, I had a pretty good night too." He shook his head. "Seriously though, Arthur, you need to get dressed quickly. They're starting to leave already."

"Oh … all right."

He had to admit he felt most peculiar and numerous strange images constantly flitted through his mind as he started to get up. Mostly of Guinevere and of how she would look naked; how her dark skin would glow in the light of that roaring fire, how well her breasts would fit in his palms, how she would call his name when he …

Arthur shook his head, desperately trying to pull himself back into reality.

"What the hell was in that drink, anyway?" he asked as he started to dress.

Merlin laughed. "Father was so wicked to have given you that. Honestly, if I hadn't been under the influence of it myself, I would have objected more strongly but, still. What is done is done."

"What is that supposed to mean, Merlin?"

"It'll come back to you. Let's get a move on. We'll have to ride exceptionally hard if we're going to reach Meirionnydd by nightfall."

The pair left late, desperately trying to catch up to the main party whilst Merlin grumbled constantly about English princes who couldn't hold their liquor. During their first short break, Morgana came to join them, throwing her arms around her husband and kissing him whilst Arthur blinked, trying to dismiss the image that had suddenly appeared in his head,

_Two tall, slim, dark haired figures were kissing passionately nearby. They were beautiful, Arthur observed as the fire glowed against their pale, naked skin and seemed to set it alight. It was a few moments before he recognised the couple but, even when he did he couldn't help but stare at them – the drink he'd consumed apparently having dulled his inhibitions – watching as their hands gently caressed one another, as he lay her down on the parched ground and started to make love to her._

"_Arthur." He turned to see her approach. Also naked. She was beautiful, laughing gently as she questioned why he was still clothed whilst standing so close to the raging fire._

"Arthur?"

_It was a valid question he decided and quickly stripped himself, moving towards her, kissing her passionately._

"Arthur!"

He blinked, disorientated to see Guinevere was standing next to him, fully clothed, her expression confused – hurt almost.

"Oh, sorry. Hello," he replied, smiling weakly as he tried to stop dwelling on his dream, tried to get his mind to focus on reality.

"Tydi o ddim yn cofio," Merlin said to Gwen kindly."Roeddwn i'n tybio," she replied.

"Wyt ti'n meddwl y gwneith o, mewn amser?"

Merlin shrugged. "Mae'n siwr."

Arthur glared at his friend. "I thought you two promised not to talk Welsh in front of me."

"Sorry, Arthur," Guinevere replied sincerely. "Do you mind if I ride next to you?"

"Of course I don't mind. Why would I?"

~o~0~o~

The Druid camp was overflowing when they arrived. It was obvious that the small encampment was not designed to hold so many ordinarily but, somehow, space was made for all. Arthur still felt slightly out of it as they were shown to their allotted area at sunset, quickly erecting their tents and starting to cook supper around small camp fires.

In the end, he left the others talking and decided to go to bed early, tired from the last couple of strange days – still feeling as if he wasn't entirely there.

He was sure that he had only just fallen asleep when he was quickly pulled back awake, alerted by someone entering the tent.

"Merlin?" he asked.

"No, he's with Morgana."

"Guinevere? What are you doing here?" Arthur asked, sitting up in the darkness and fumbling for a light.

"I came to talk to you about last night. Do you still not remember anything?"

"I-I'm not sure. It all seems like a dream to me."

Arthur quickly lit the candle to see Gwen in the same long, white dress that all the girls had been wearing last night. All the girls that had gathered around that roaring bonfire with their young men – with him.

"It wasn't a dream," he breathed.

"No."

"Everyone danced around the fire," he recalled then. "It was really hot and so we … undressed and we..." He swallowed hard.

"All the couples that agreed to go through the ceremony, yes," she confirmed.

"The ceremony?" he asked, frowning.

"The drink dulled your inhibitions a bit and apparently affected your memory more than most, but it didn't take away your free will. If you had not liked the idea, you would have been able to walk away."

He thought carefully before nodding. "Yes, I remember. The Druid asked me and I understood. I chose you."

"Yes. Do you remember now?"

"It's beginning to come back to me." He frowned. "Merlin and Morgana talked about a second marriage?"

"A Welsh marriage, yes."

His eyes widened. "Last night was the ceremony they were talking about and we took part in it too?"

"Yes."

He groaned. "I am in _such_ trouble."

"Arthur, I honestly hadn't realised how much you were affected by that drink. We did explain all of this to you last night. Asked if you were quite certain – several times, in fact, but … I suppose it's because you didn't get to sample weaker version of that drink as a child and so it affected you more." She gave a resigned sigh, moving back towards the entrance as if making ready to leave. "Loss of memory in this situation is not unheard of and so it has long been decided that anything that happens on Solstice night is not set in stone. Any marriage undertaken is not considered legal unless it is consummated on the second night – which is why I'm here right now."

"We're still not fully married?"

"No, and I understand how difficult this is for you politically. How awkward. Last night was all about instinct. About your free choice if you were not bound by English law and custom, but all you have to do now is send me away and I shall go. Last night will be forgotten and you will be free to marry any English lady that your father chooses for you."

"And if I ask you to stay?"

"Then we will be married under Welsh law, if not under English."

"Gwen..." Arthur interrupted.

"That may not make things any easier but..."

"Guinevere..."

"Yes?"

"Come to bed."

She moved back towards him with a soft smile. "I thought you'd never ask," she said, dropping her dress to the floor before joining him under the furs.

~o~0~o~

* * *

_**A/N:** Just to say that any Welsh here does not necessarily require translation, especially seeing that we're viewing all of this from Arthur's POV. That will change in a couple of chapters though and you'll start finding out rather more._

_I've had some art made for this fic by the wonderful Wil1969 including this bookcover. I'll share them all later but, for now, I'm going to put the link up to one of my favourites from this chapter on my PP if you fancy taking a look._


	8. The Tricoloured Dragon

**Chapter 8: The Tricoloured Dragon**

Arthur had not only watched a Druidic ceremony but had taken part in it. He'd even married a Welsh princess under their laws. Now he was here to witness the pronouncement of The Tricoloured Dragon, one of the most sacred legends of their people.

He knew he should probably feel more guilty than he did but, after a night with Guinevere that he actually remembered, he really couldn't bring himself to feel that concerned.

The morning sun revealed what had been hidden the night before – the most spectacular sight that Arthur had ever seen. Along one side was a steep, sheer cliff-face pitted with numerous cave entrances, all lit with glowing torches. It seemed as if those spaces were dwellings for the Druids that lived here; a strange, alien world for the most part and yet one which seemed to emanate a great sense of peace too. A huge crowd were gathered here now, all standing in the large open space in front of the cliff where a Druid stood with his back to a single standing stone; numerous symbols carved on its three roughly hewn sides.

Their group were standing close together, Guinevere on his left and Merlin on his right, with Morgana also next to her husband so that he would be able to translate for both of them. Morgana would probably understand most things today but, as she herself had said, her Welsh was very rusty having lived in England for so long and so Merlin's help would definitely be appreciated.

The Druid lowered his hood and held up his staff, gaining instant silence as he did so. His voice carried over the field with little effort, the Welsh words echoing around the space whilst, next to Arthur, Merlin quietly translated, Morgana leaning in to make sure she also heard the English.

"_It is time. We have read the signs and the stars, and the death of the local prince at this time has prompted us to summon you all. This is the day that the Dragon is revealed to us. The Tricoloured Dragon who will unite the land and rule us all."_

Arthur turned a questioning look towards Merlin who shrugged. "It's close enough."

"They'll accept this Dragon?" Arthur whispered back. "They'll allow him to rule the whole of Wales?"

"Not immediately, no but, given time."

"And you really believe all of this?"

"Hush, he's speaking again."

"_So you have answered the summons and gathered in great numbers as was prophesied. The time is here. The time is now."_ The old man took a big breath, lifting up the carved wooden staff again. _"Propose your Dragon!"_

A large, middle aged man stepped forward and shouted in a booming voice, "Rwyf yn cynnig Gwaine ap Lot o Feirionnydd." Arthur didn't need Merlin's translation to understand who he was talking about.

"Gwaine?"

"Lot's eldest son who is a serious contender for the throne of Meirionnydd," Merlin confirmed, "but I think his followers have misunderstood exactly why we are here." He shook his head, apparently frustrated.

"_One cannot be Three and this man can only be Gold," _the Druid proclaimed.

Arthur turned to Merlin and gave him a sceptical look. "What?" Merlin responded with a grin. "That's what he said, honestly." Arthur turned to Gwen who was smiling at the exchange but she nodded to confirm the translation.

"Even _I_ got that," Morgana said, "as the words are all pretty easy. Although I admit that I don't understand what he means either."

"_I propose Gareth ap Rhodry of Ceredigion," _another man called.

"_This man can be Red but he cannot be Three." _Now the Druid sounded rather impatient.

"Do you have any idea what he's talking about, Merlin?" Arthur asked.

"Ssh."

Suddenly a tall, beautiful blonde woman stepped forward, also raising a staff. Everyone turned to her instantly and she smiled smugly, obviously pleased to have so much attention on her.

"Rwyf yn cynnig, Mordred ap Lot o Feirionnydd, Cenred ap Caradog o Arwystli a Morgause ferch Gorlois ap Madog o Bowys."

"Morgause?" Morgana breathed and Arthur turned suddenly, surprised at hearing the shock in her voice to see Merlin placing his hands on his wife's shoulders, supporting her.

"Ferch Golois," Guinevere repeated with quiet emphasis and he quickly understood.

"Her sister?"

She nodded. "Lot's widow."

"Did you know?" Arthur asked Morgana and she simply nodded in reply, still staring in shock at the woman, her eyes wide. "_She_ is? The blonde one is your sister?"

Merlin nodded a confirmation in his wife's stead but his eyes were now back on the Druid, listening carefully to the man's reply. _ "These three could indeed be Red, Gold and White," _he translated, "_although it is by no means certain that they are The Dragon." _

"_There are no others here more powerful. My son and I both..." _Merlin paused mid sentence, pulling a face as he apparently wrestled with the translation just as another, familiar voice sounded from directly behind them.

"_I too have a proposition for The Tricoloured Dragon."_

Arthur stared, open mouthed as Balinor pushed in between Arthur and his son and addressed the crowd.

"Great," Merlin mumbled sarcastically before turning towards Arthur to translate.

"No, I think even I got that," Arthur laughed.

Merlin grinned and quickly translated Morgause's loud objection. "_You are neither truly Red nor Gold,"_ she complained and Arthur was suddenly reminded of the old man that had appeared in Camelot, talking of colours and saying that he was gold.

"_I do not propose myself," _Balinor began but, after translating that, Merlin stopped, simply turning to Arthur with a shrug and letting him figure the rest out for himself. "Rwyf yn cynnig, Myrddin ap Balinor o Wynedd, Arthur ab Uther o Loegr a Morgana ferch Gorlois o Bowys."

Arthur was just trying to decide if he'd really heard his name within that list, when Morgause suddenly reacted to the very last one.

"_Morgana? My sister is here?" _

Arthur turned to see Merlin put a hand on his wife's arm, shaking his head as she made to step forwards.

"_Who is this Arthur?" _another voice asked.

"_He is English. He cannot be eligible." _Merlin translated a further loud complaint.

"They _are_ talking about me. What are you up to now, Balinor?" Arthur called over to the prince.

"_The nationality of the Dragon is not specified," _the Druid explained before turning towards Balinor's party. "Arthur?" he called over loudly and Merlin grabbed him by the arm, pushing him slightly so the druid knew who to address. "You are a warrior of royal blood?" the man asked in halting English.

"I am Prince Arthur and a Knight of Camelot," he responded automatically.

"Then you are indeed Gold." The Druid turned back to address the whole crowd in Welsh once more. _"This trio also meet the criteria. Are there any other proposals?"_

~o~0~o~

"Right, Merlin. No more secrets, no more evasions. What's going on? All of it now."

"We don't have that much time before the trials begin, Arthur."

"What trials? Merlin, that's the point. You haven't told me anything."

The young Welshman sighed, wiping a hand over his face wearily. "It's just … all of this …" He shook himself. "Sorry, you're absolutely correct, I should have explained it more but, to be honest, even I didn't fully understand all of this until I came back home. Right, sit … I'll try and explain.

"The Tricoloured Dragon is not an actual dragon, obviously. Nor is it a person, despite what many have believed. The Dragon is in fact _three_ people. Three people who, together, are destined to unite the land in peace."

"But, why me? As it was pointed out back there, I'm English. What have I got to do with uniting Wales?"

"Well, there's this alliance we've been discussing for a start. In the future, you'll be King of England and I might have a chance at ruling Gwynedd. Now that I'm married to Morgana we also have a strong claim to the Powys throne and so, from there, it might well be possible to achieve such a feat within our life times if not our parents'."

"But your kingdoms are not automatically handed over to the eldest son and, as you yourself have said, you are not the typical Welsh soldier. Why would your countrymen accept a prince who was not a warrior?"

Merlin shrugged. "Depends what you mean by 'warrior'."

Arthur frowned, remembering Gwen saying something similar. "All right. What do _you_ mean by warrior?"

Merlin just gave a weak smile and shook his head. "One thing at a time." He took a deep breath. "There's another reason why this works, although it's not a popular theory in this country, I admit. The Tricoloured Dragon is a very old story and by that I mean it's _ancient_. Some believe that it is _so_ old that it pre-dates England; comes from a time when the whole of this land mass was controlled by the Druids and their religion and so, as these prophets had no concept of England and Wales, the phrase, 'uniting the whole land in peace', could mean something entirely different."

Arthur gaped at him. "You mean the English idea of bringing the whole of Wales under their control?"

"I like how you say 'their', Arthur as if you were not English yourself," Merlin commented with a laugh.

"Apparently I'm now married to a Welsh woman which rather changes my perspective. Talking of which, I need to have a few words with Balinor about that little stunt he pulled the other night."

"Anyway, there are four groups of three that have been chosen and the aim of these 'trials' is to reveal who is the superior trio," Merlin continued. "You will fight the other Gold candidates with sword and, from what I've seen will probably win. My strongest Red competition is ten years old so I'm fairly confident about that one..."

"I don't know, Merlin, that fourth candidate looked pretty formidable."

"Yes, but I won't be fighting him with a sword."

"Oh, and what _will _you be fighting with?"

He grinned. "The only unknown is Morgana and this White aspect which I admit that I don't fully understand either."

"What is it with these colours, Merlin? You need to explain."

"A White warrior is one who fights with knowledge," he said, "As opposed to a Gold warrior who fights with steel."

"What sort of knowledge?"

"That's what I'm not sure of, which means I can't help Morgana to prepare for her trials." He sighed. "She's just gone off to talk to the Druids and see if she can get a better idea from them."

"So, what does a Red warrior fight with, Merlin?" Arthur asked and then groaned as a horn sounded loudly over the whole field, calling everyone's attention.

Merlin gave him a cheeky look as they walked towards the central stone, well aware of his frustration. "Prayer?" he answered with an amused raise of his eyebrows as he left to join the group under the red flag; the boy Mordred plus one male and female adult, each wearing ornate robes and holding engraved staffs.

"Prayer?" Arthur muttered, as he moved towards his own Gold party. His eyes still on the strange Red group, trying to find the memory that was currently eluding him.

~o~0~o~

Arthur's first fight was with Gwaine. Despite the first proposal having been dismissed, another local group had their own Dragon in mind and had included the eldest son of Lot as their Gold warrior. The Welshman took one look at who he'd been paired up with and gave an amused shrug.

"Rematch?" he suggested lightly.

"Looks like it," Arthur replied. "No wooden swords this time though."

He fought all three opponents and, despite Merlin's confidence, none of them were easy. Cenred was an especially vicious fighter but then Arthur knew that this man's father had taken Powys by force from Morgana's father and had won many battles since then. Always the victor.

Except this time.

It had been exceptionally close and, as before at Dinas Emrys, Arthur thought perhaps his youth had had something to do with his victories, as that battle had been the third one for both of them and the whole thing had ultimately come down to fitness and stamina.

Even then it seemed that it wasn't all about who had won the fights. Afterwards, Arthur was ushered into a tent and given three tasks, the first of which required him to be blindfolded before attempting to tap the attending Druid with the back of a flat wooden sword. Arthur had played similar 'games' at home, although this one was considerably harder as the man wore no armour and barely moved at all during the test. Then the prince was asked, in rather halting English, to name the one thing he liked the most and least about his Red and White aspects. Biting back his instinctive temptation to insult his two friends, Arthur thought hard about the sort of answer the man was probably looking for. Strength of character and inherent kindness seemed him something both possessed and strangely finding only _one_ strong point seemed far harder than finding one sensible weakness. The third test was the strangest of all as he was blindfolded yet again and asked to point to his Red and White aspects. He asked the man to repeat the question but wasn't much wiser the second time around.

"The Dragon is one. There is a connection between you – a presence," the Druid explained. "See if you can point. Even to just one of the others."

"_Presence is probably not the right word," _he remembered Merlin saying to him before._ "Connection, would be more accurate, I think." _

Still having no real idea what he was doing, Arthur thought really hard about Merlin and Morgana and lifted both arms to point, feeling a bit foolish. Oh well, he knew he'd done well in all the actual fighting tasks, hopefully his lack of understanding of Druidic ways wouldn't be too much of a hindrance.

Although, why should he even care, he wondered as he left to gather in front of the standing stone for the final pronouncement and what would his father say if he could see him now? He winced at the thought.

Soon after, he was joined by Merlin and Morgana who both gave rather non-committal shrugs when he asked how it had gone. If any of their tests had been like his last one, he honestly couldn't blame them. Arthur started to ask Merlin one of the many questions that was on his mind at the time but his new friend simply shook his head, pointing to the head Druid who was raising his staff to gain everyone's attention once more.

"_The Dragon is born – his colours are bright. There is no doubt. Merlin, Arthur and Morgana are The Tricoloured Dragon."_

"_No!" _Morgause shouted and the druid turned to her.

"_You wish to dispute my decision, Morgause?"_

She glared at him for a moment, considering.

"She won't," Merlin whispered to Arthur. "She knows the rules better than anyone. She'll have to find another way to gain power."

Cenred leant forward to whisper something in her ear and Morgause gave a curt nod in respond, bowing deeply to the druid. _"Forgive me. I accept the judgement, of course."_

"_Then our work here is done. Feast and rest until the dawn. Celebrate the birth of The Dragon."_

~o~0~o~

"Arthur!" Balinor rushed into his tent at the break of dawn the following day to find Gwen assisting with the prince's armour as he buckled on his own sword belt.

"Yes, I know. We were hardly likely to sleep through all that noise." He gave Guinevere a gentle kiss before turning back to Balinor. "Let me guess. The truce has ended and Powys has decided to attack?"

"I'm afraid so. Come, we need your sword out there, and I need to get Guinevere to safety."

She raised her eyes at this, picking up a sword of her own. "I can fight well enough."

"That's not the point and you know it, Gwen. You're far too recognisable."

"You're letting Merlin fight," she complained.

"Merlin's naturally camouflaged in many ways and none here has the power to beat him, as was proven yesterday. Come, keep that sword with you if it makes you feel better but I need you away from here."

Arthur had just emerged from the tent when he found Merlin by his side. The young man held a sword in one hand and looked like he'd already been fighting hard. "Have you seen Morgana?" he asked, grabbing his arm urgently.

"No," Arthur replied. "She's not with you?"

"She wasn't there when I woke."

"I'm sure she's fine."

Merlin shook his head. "I've got a horrible feeling..."

"What?"

Arthur was briefly distracted as a soldier charged for him, waving his sword menacingly. It only took a couple of well aimed blows to defeat him but, when that was done, he realised that he'd lost Merlin. Looking around he saw his friend talking urgently to the Druid elder that had performed yesterday's ceremony and Arthur quickly finished off a second opponent before running over to his friend, needing to know what was going on.

"Na!" Merlin shouted at the Druid. "Na. Tydi o ddim yn wir. Bysa hi ddim."

"Mae gen i ofn nad oes dim amheuaeth. Fe adawodd hi hwn i chi," the man replied calmly.

Arthur saw the Druid hand Merlin something. "What?" he asked as he reached Merlin. "What did he say?"

The young man's eyes were on a scrap of parchment in his hands, his expressive face somehow managing to show hurt and anger all at once. "He said she's left," he replied. "He said Morgana's gone over to Powys."

"No, he must be mistaken. She must have been taken against her will."

"Read it for yourself," he said, shoving the piece of parchment into his hands and now there was nothing but anger in his eyes as he walked towards the main mass of the army, his hands free of any weapons.

"Merlin, what are you doing?" Arthur asked, following behind without reading the letter in his hand.

"Did they learn _nothing_ from yesterday?" Merlin's voice was quiet but also surprisingly terrifying. "Did they not understand what it meant?"

"What are you doing?" Arthur repeated, moving closer.

"They are seriously stupid enough to attempt to trisect The Dragon and forget that its head breathes fire."

Then Merlin threw both arms out towards the main body of the Powys army and Arthur stared in shock and disbelief as the young man's eyes glowed orange and a huge wall of flame erupted from both of his palms, heading straight towards the enemy.

~o~0~o~

**End of Part One**

* * *

_**A/N: **(Runs and hides!) _

_This is the end of Arthur's point of view and the (almost) half way point. Part Two is next (still the same story) as we move onto Merlin's version of events and hopefully answer a number of your questions/concerns in the process. _

_Please do continue to give me your thoughts and guesses on this. I'm glad so many of you are still enjoying it. :D_

_Have added missed warnings to the summary and Chapter 7. Sorry._


	9. Arriving in England

_**A/N: **Merlin's pov and a little hop back to his arrival in Camelot._

* * *

**Part Two: The Red Dragon**

**Chapter 9: Arriving in England**

Merlin had felt a strange connection when he'd first met the young Englishman calling himself Lancelot; an unusual sort of attraction … like the pull of destiny. He stared hard at the back of the blond's head as their party crossed over the border into England, frowning as he tried to work out what it was his magic was telling him and why he felt quite so drawn to the man.

"_How much did Balinor tell you about this trip, Merlin?"_ Gwen asked him in Welsh, jolting him out of his distraction.

"_Oh, you know what my father's like?" _Merlin replied._ "For everything he says clearly, there at least five other things that he likes to be cryptic about." _

"_But he still believes you to be part of the Dragon? Did he not confirm that this trip and the negotiations have something to do with that?"_

"_Confirm? No, but he doesn't really need to. Everything points to the union happening soon."_

"_And Lancelot?"_

"_It doesn't make sense, Gwen,"_ Merlin said, still frowning at the young knight's head. _"The pull I feel now is so strong that I'd be convinced that he's one of the other aspects, but Father was convinced it would be Uther's son who was Gold which is why he's still so determined that a marriage will happen between you and the prince."_

"_But I don't _want_ to marry Arthur," _Gwen complained._ "I've heard that he's a rude and arrogant prince_. _I'd much rather marry Lancelot."_

"_Yes, and you're supposed to be connected to all three of us, the Queen that binds us." _Merlin shook his head. _ "It just doesn't make any sense."_

"_And this Morgana?"_

Merlin sighed. _"Its not as if I haven't always known that I'd have an arranged marriage but I assumed … I'd hoped that I'd be in a situation where I could meet a few prospective brides and have some say in the matter." _He shrugged._ "I literally do know nothing about this girl though."_

"_Is Balinor assuming she's the third aspect?"_

"_He hasn't said so, but he does seem to think we'll find the White here in Camelot and says I should keep all my senses open. There is a type of inevitable logic though – what with her being the daughter of the previous prince of Powys."_

"_Well, the marriage situation is much the same for both of us then. Although I can't imagine why the King of England would consider me a worthy prospect for his son."_

"_No, neither can I," _Merlin replied, knowing that Gwen would take no offence at the statement,_ "but Father seems quite determined to offer you, all the same."_

"Do you two have to speak in Welsh all the time?" the blond man suddenly called back over his shoulder. "It's very off putting, you know."

"Oh, sorry, Lancelot," Merlin replied, quickly switching. "We didn't mean to be rude – it's just the language we're used to talking in." He looked over towards Gwen who nodded her agreement to his silent question. "We'll speak English from now on, I promise."

~o~0~o~

It wasn't long before Merlin discovered the reason for the confused feelings and lack of logic surrounding Lancelot. Shortly after they made camp on the night before they were due to enter Camelot, the blond knight had taken them to one side and confessed who he really was.

Whereas Gwen was confused and upset by the news, Merlin had to work hard not to show his elation. If this _was_ Prince Arthur sitting in front of him now, than this strange pull he'd been feeling towards the young man made perfect sense. All his life Merlin had grown up with the knowledge that he had a great destiny and that his strong magical powers had been given to him for a very specific reason. He'd often wondered if his father had got it all wrong – if it was just wishful thinking on Balinor's part – a way of justifying why his only son wasn't the usual, strong, Gold warrior that was traditionally required to lay claim to his throne.

Recently, however, as Merlin's powers had really started to develop, it had seemed to make more sense to him. He may not be able to win great battles with a sword but, with his level of magic, he could make a real difference to future of Wales and perhaps, if he was the Red Dragon, then the future really could be as bright and prosperous as the prophecy implied.

~o~0~o~

Seeing Camelot for the first time was truly awe inspiring. The pale stone and majestic turrets that seemed so alien to Merlin in some ways, also felt strangely welcoming. The raven flying towards the castle with such purpose had seemed like a positive omen too: That particular breed of bird had great significance to his people, and its apparent attraction to Camelot, a place renowned as being unwelcoming of anything magical, should be a very good sign.

He tried to examine the small sense of doubt he felt as he watched the black dot heading away from him, but then he felt another strange pull and all other thoughts left his head.

They were walking through the Gate House which lead to the inner square, when Merlin realised that he'd been feeling it for a while now. At first he put it down to excitement; an impatience to get inside the great castle but then, as they moved towards a large flight of pale, stone steps in the cobbled courtyard, he felt this strange double pull; Arthur to his left and another in front of him, towards a young, dark haired figure standing next to the King. In fact, the sensation was _so_ strong that Merlin had to grab onto the saddle to prevent himself from falling off. Then he took a closer look at the lady in question and felt a very different type of attraction.

"Who … is … that?" he gasped.

"That? Oh, that's just Morgana," Arthur replied casually.

"What!" Merlin reached out with his mind towards the girl and felt it again – the jolt from her and Arthur and also from Gwen – and grabbed the saddle once more, quite certain the whole ground had just tipped. "It … it can't be."

"What are you talking about? Of course it is. I've grown up with her for the last twelve years so I should know. What's the matter Merlin? Why so shocked?"

How could he fully explain his feelings right then? The pull of destiny, the reaction of his magic and the thought that he was now facing the girl he was likely to marry. Gwen's marriage might not be something Uther would consider politically, but the one between his ward and Balinor's son was another matter entirely.

It couldn't be true, could it? Surely he couldn't be that lucky.

"I just hadn't expected her to be quite so beautiful," he managed to reply but, even then, he knew it was only part of the reason for his surprise.

Arthur instantly teased him for that of course but, by that point, Morgana's eyes had found his and Merlin again felt that strange magical tug as she frowned at him – obviously confused – and he tried to come to terms with everything that the sensation implied.

Of the three aspects that Merlin had learnt about, the White was the most complex and obscure and the one that only those who fully studied the lore could hope to truly understand. It was the feminine aspect of the Dragon – although that didn't mean a man could not be of that colour – but was also tied in with the concepts of 'empathy', 'healer', 'death' and 'seer'. Morgana's apparent interest in him now could be proof that she was one of the Three but, then again, she could just be staring at him for an entirely different reason. What would she think once she became aware that he was one of their main negotiating points? What she be disappointed when she realised that he was to be offered to her as a suitor?

~o~0~o~

The first part of the talks went well, considering how distracted Merlin was during most of the discussion. He asked Geoffrey to conduct the alliance part because he knew he would be unable to talk about a proposed marriage between 'Balinor's son' and 'Uther's ward' and make any sort of sense.

Merlin felt he'd held his own during the magical part of the discussion, even though he was frustrated about having to promise not to use his gifts whilst he was here. Then again, when had he ever fully stuck to the rules in that regard? Even at home.

There was a little time for socialisation after that and, during that time, Merlin became even more aware of the magical connection between the three of them – well, the four of them really, as Gwen had her own part to play in the prophecy if Balinor was to be believed. She was supposed to have a strong and unique connection with each part of The Dragon and so Merlin was pleased at how quickly the two girls appeared to bond with each other – chatting away quite happily – whilst he and Arthur continued to develop their own unique relationship; part fraternal, part adversarial, part friendship.

The banquet in the Great Hall was even more lavish than the one at home had been, with twice as much food and drink on offer than he was used to. Afterwards Merlin joined the other three to continue their earlier interrupted conversation, not fully understanding the problem of that until Arthur gleefully offered to attempt his Welsh introduction for him. Morgana quickly latched onto who Merlin's father was, of course, and stormed off in disgust – or so Merlin thought – and so, with a glare at the still grinning prince, the young Welshman hurried off in her general direction in an attempt to repair some of the damage.

"Morgana, wait," he called out and she hesitated before talking another couple of steps, obviously uncertain whether or not to ignore him. "I'm sorry … I didn't mean to be deceptive, it's just..."

"What, Merlin? It's just, what?" she fired back, turning abruptly and glaring at him. He felt slightly concerned that, right then, she seemed even more attractive and alluring to him than when she was being polite.

"My father sent me here both to negotiate and also to meet you. I would have said something earlier but, to be honest, I was so surprised when I realised you were Morgana that I didn't really know how to react."

She tipped her head suspiciously. "What do you mean?" He nodded towards the nearby window sill and sat down holding out his arms towards her. With only a moment's pause she joined him, happily allowing him to take her hands in his. They were small compared to his but not overly so – soft and warm – and the contact felt delightful.

"It's bad enough that our marriages have to be arranged," Merlin said quietly, "but even worse when I'm … well, I'm not exactly the type of warrior you would have had in mind, I know."

"Thanks for believing me to be that shallow, Merlin."

He blinked at her, surprised at the comment. "Sorry, I only meant..."

"You certainly made a good enough first impression with me – even considering my poor understanding of Welsh," she continued. Her smile turned unexpectedly shy and his heart began to beat faster – feeling that connection between them once more and wondering again if he could really be this lucky. "Anyway," she continued, fixing him a meaningful stare "I'm more than aware that certain people in Wales may have _other_ skills to help them with their fighting."

His eyes widened as he realised what she was implying. How much did she know? "Yes," he replied, his eyes attempting to give the word extra emphasis.

"You're Red?" she asked, her voice full of awe. "_True_ Red?"

"You know about that?" he replied, shocked. How could she know about the Prophecy? He'd just assumed she had guessed about the magic.

"Yes, because my mother was gifted in the art of Tri-Reading and I was told when I was very young."

"Told what, exactly?"

"That I'm true White."

"Ah, I see." Then perhaps she didn't fully understand after all. Perhaps living in England all these years meant that she didn't know about the Tricoloured Dragon. "In what way?"

She moved a little closer, lowering her voice. "I have these dreams … visions," she whispered, "and I am _so_ afraid that Uther will find out, Merlin. Terrified, especially now. Especially when the … ability is maturing in me."

A true seer? That was rare but perhaps confirmed his Father's suspicion that she was the White Dragon. "Perhaps I can help you, Morgana?"

"Are you sure because... if Uther ever found out."

He squeezed her hands, allowing his thumbs to gently caress them as he did so. "I can look after you now I'm here. As long as you're not totally against this proposal, then we can spend time together anyway and, if you accept me, there'll be plenty of time for us to talk about such things. You can come back to Wales with me later too and there we can find others to help you. Others far more experienced and knowledgeable than I am."

"Well, despite my earlier complaints, I admit that when Uther mentioned a Welsh marriage I did become rather more interested. I may have teased Arthur earlier for his mistake over what 'of Powys' means but it's something I feel anyway. I believe that Wales is where I truly belong, even though I've lived the majority of my life here in England."

"Then you will consider the offer?"

"Consider it?" She sounded surprised. "I shall accept it, Merlin, of course. I would be honoured to be your wife."

"You would?"

She laughed. "Why so surprised? Didn't I just explain it all?"

"I-I suppose."

"And I like you already, Merlin. You're kind and romantic and..." She tipped her head with a small smile. "Actually very attractive."

"Now I _know_ you're teasing me."

"I'm not," she replied seriously before smiling gently, her amazing eyes holding his, making this strange connection and pull even stronger. Merlin raised the hands he was holding up to his lips and kissed them, his eyes still locked on hers, his heart beating even faster as she gazed at him, her cheeks slightly pink.

"W-we should return to the Hall, I think," he said then. "Because our relationship has not been sanctioned yet and … this might be misinterpreted if anyone was to come along."

"That's true," she said, standing up gently and he copied the move, offering his arm in order to lead her back into Hall.

~o~0~o~

The second round of talks was scheduled for the day after next and, as soon as Uther started to bring up the alliance negotiations again, in a slightly world weary and bored tone, Morgana quickly interrupted him.

"If it is still something you think would be of benefit to you, Your Majesty," she said in a clear voice, "Then I would be happy to accept the offer of marriage to prince Balinor's son."

Merlin noted that Arthur did not seem especially surprised by this pronouncement and assumed that he and Morgana had talked about their discussion just as he and Gwen had. The others in the room _did_ seem surprised, however, and Merlin recalled the previous comments about her reluctance to enter into marriage deals before this and assumed they were surprised at how quickly she had decided to comply.

"Just like that?" the king asked. "Do you not wish to know more?"

"It's Merlin, Uther," she replied. "_He's_ Balinor's son."

"_You_ are?" the king asked, turning in surprise to stare at the young Welshman.

Next to him Arthur gave a short bark of a laugh at his father's surprise. "Yes, that was pretty much my reaction when I first found out."

"Why did you not introduce yourself as such?" Agravaine demanded of Merlin.

"For much the same reason that Arthur did not announce his true identity when he visited Wales," Merlin replied smoothly.

"Balinor was concerned for his son's safety whilst travelling, just as you were with yours," Geoffrey added.

"You do not seem like the typical warrior prince," Uther observed, turning his attention back to Merlin.

"No," he agreed. "Another reason why my father wanted me to visit here. I am more of a scholar, which is of use to him during these negotiations. However, this marriage alliance _is_ of benefit to us and these negotiations regardless of my fighting prowess."

Two seats away, Morgana leant over to Gwen and whispered in her ear. "Luckily it's not _those_ type of sword skills Merlin requires for this deal."

Gwen burst out laughing at her comment, whilst Merlin almost choked on the drink he'd just taken a sip of, seriously regretting having such acute hearing. Arthur had been too far away to hear but seemed highly amused on seeing his reaction and Merlin knew his cheeks were now flaming bright red.

"Gaius?" Uther asked, apparently stunned by his ward's sudden change of heart.

"I see no reason not to accept this, Sire. It is a good match politically, as Geoffrey points out and, if the two young people are also in favour then … well, that's just a bonus in these type of negotiations, don't you think?"

"Very well," the King said with a shrug. "Do you need to get back in contact with Balinor about this, Geoffrey?"

"There's no need, Your Majesty. The prince has always been keen on this particular union and it is another reason why Merlin has come along on this trip. Balinor is happy for the marriage to take place here at your earliest convenience."

~o~0~o~

* * *

_**A/N:** I love writing Morgana - she's such fun when she's in full sass mode! :D _

_I'm planning on updating my PP in a bit. I'll link to some more of Wil1969's art work for this fic (and mine!) and also put up news about the recent fanfiction award results at The Heart of Camelot fansite where I may just have one something! :P_


	10. The Wedding

**__****A/N: **_Warnings for minor sexual adult scenes in line with the T rating for this story._

* * *

**Chapter 10: The Wedding **

Merlin saw little of Morgana during the next few days, although the negotiations continued with even more urgency, as the subtle details of the marriage alliance and everything it entailed in regards to land were agreed upon.

After a week of long and drawn-out talks the social events recommenced and, at long last, Merlin was able to spend more time with his betrothed, although always in company and always with a chaperone in tow; a middle aged lady who glared fiercely at the pair if ever they got within touching distance. Morgana's raised eyebrows spoke volumes and Merlin admitted that he was baffled – assuming this was all some type of English etiquette that he was unaware of.

"It's one thing to come over here and marry someone I've only just met," Merlin complained to Arthur, "but you'd think that, now we _are_ betrothed, we'd get some chance to talk alone – some chance to find out about each other before the actual day."

"Not without a chaperone, I'm afraid," Arthur replied with a small smile. "There are strict rules about your interactions before marriage and on the day itself, to be honest. Morgana's honour is at stake after all."

"But, that doesn't make any sense," Merlin complained. "I'm the one who's going to be her husband, after all."

"Things are not so strict in Wales then?" Arthur asked.

"No," Merlin replied. "There is far more freedom there as a wedding approaches, especially for the girls. In fact, with our particular ceremony, it's vital to know as much about the person as possible beforehand."

Arthur started to respond then, perhaps asking for more details of the Welsh wedding ceremony but, at that moment, the girls came over to them and that meant, in this public situation, that they had an excuse to talk together, even if talking was all they could do.

Merlin also managed to exchange a few words with Gwen in Welsh – despite their earlier promise – and gathered that Morgana was feeling just as frustrated by the lack of time they were able to spend together as he was. Merlin started to wonder if there was any way to get around the system – perhaps use magic despite his promise to Uther? What sort of power did Morgana possess, anyway? Would she be able to hear him if he tried to communicate with her silently?

In the end, none of that was necessary as, a couple of days later, he answered a knock on his door to find Morgana outside, wearing a dark green, hooded cloak and a conspiratorial smile.

"What are you doing here?" Merlin hissed, looking outside into the corridor nervously.

"Coming to talk to my betrothed, despite these ridiculous English customs," she replied.

"How did you escape your jailer?" he asked and she giggled at his turn of phrase.

"Gwen helped there. She asked Arthur to take her out for a walk this afternoon which meant that her need for Alice's presence was greater than mine."

Merlin grinned. "I thought she would have just arranged for someone else to stay with you?"

"I had a sleepless night and a terrible headache," Morgana replied, putting one hand to her head over-dramatically. "So, I was fast asleep when they left and in no fit state to socialise."

"Of course you weren't," he said with a laugh, sitting down on the settee and patting the material, inviting her to join him. She did so with a gentle smile and he quickly took her hands as he had before. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Talk? Who said I wanted to talk?" she replied with an especially wicked grin.

"But I'm hearing that all English ladies are sweet and innocent and their virtue should be protected at all cost," Merlin continued, also smiling.

"But I'm not English, am I?"

"Apparently not," he teased. "Apparently you really _are_ Welsh – despite your upbringing."

"So, girls are not so innocent over there then?"

"Perhaps not, although I'm not sure I have enough knowledge to answer that question. One for Gwen, perhaps." He paused, looking at her closely. "What is it, really, Morgana?"

"I don't know. I'm just confused, I suppose. I'm being told about how to act, what to expect, how to behave. Ever since I came here Uther has told me to forget my old life, family and country and to think of myself as English. I never agreed with that – fought him so much but, in the end, I had little choice in the matter. Now I've been talking to Gwen and learning more about Wales and especially how different the marriage customs are there and … I suppose." She sighed deeply. "I suppose I just find it annoying that I've learnt more about my old home in the last week than I have from Uther in all the years I've been here. Now I'm to enter this marriage with practically no preparation at all and I'm finding it even more daunting than a bride typically would."

"So, how can I help? Are there any questions you want to ask me? Anything at all?"

"Yes but, in a little while. First..." She smiled shyly. "First I would like you to kiss me."

He grinned "Now, I'm quite certain _that_ isn't allowed."

"Not for a courting English couple perhaps but then, we're not, are we?"

He smiled in response and leaned forward slowly, touching his lips to hers very, very gently. He pulled away after almost immediately but Morgana was having none of it, leaning in and searching for more. He kissed her a little deeper then, pushing his thoughts towards her in order to see if he could communicate with her in a magical way. He didn't receive any obvious response from her, but she did start to kiss him back a bit harder, perhaps subconsciously aware of the connection he had just initiated.

Before Merlin knew what had happened, things were getting passionate and when Arthur casually strode into Merlin's chambers after his walk with Gwen, it was to find the pair lying down on the settee and kissing furiously, hands wandering everywhere.

"Merlin!"

The young Welshman attempted to jump up quickly but was hampered by the fact that Morgana's hands were up his shirt and her skirts tangled around his legs. The Prince started to head towards his friend, anger flashing in his eyes, but then saw Morgana smirking and quickly re-evaluated the situation.

"You're both as bad as each other!" he exclaimed. "Go back to your chambers, Morgana, before Father discovers what you were doing."

"I don't see what the problem is?" she replied with a laugh as strode towards the door, stroking the creases out of her dress as she walked. "I only wanted to test out the merchandise before the sale was finalised."

"Morgana!"

~o~0~o~

Merlin had never been so nervous as he was walking into Morgana's chambers on the night of their wedding. He had deliberately only drunk enough to calm his nerves and the couple had left as early as was polite but, after the banquet, formal English custom dictated they went their own way so that servants could 'prepare' them for their wedding night. What preparation could possible be needed? Merlin wondered as he sent away the young servant he'd been assigned, informing him brusquely that he was quite able to change clothes himself. He also ignored the garments that had been laid out for him on the bed, instead choosing the loose fitting white wedding outfit he would have worn during a Welsh ceremony. Honestly, all he wanted to do was to spend some time with his new wife alone, was that really too much to ask?

Merlin walked into Morgana's chambers to find his new wife sitting up in bed, her hair still styled as it had been at the wedding, but now dressed in an attractive lace nightdress which was still far more modest than the Welsh wedding attire.

"What are you wearing?" she asked him with a frown.

"I was going to ask the same of you," he retorted. "I was also going to ask why you're over there?"

"In bed?" She arched an elegant eyebrow. "I thought _that_ much would have been obvious."

"Perhaps but, haven't we got some catching up to do first?" Merlin walked over to a small table and poured two mead into the two goblets that were sitting on the silver tray near to the fire. "Come and have a drink, Morgana, and let's do this _our_ way."

"The Welsh way?"

He laughed. "Well, this fire is a bit smaller than the one we typically use but, yes, why not. Let's drink and dance around the fire as we do in Wales."

She smiled brightly and jumped out of bed quickly, almost skipping over and Merlin's heart started to pound as she came closer. Yes, the nightdress was rather more modest than the Welsh wedding attire, but it was still considerably less clothing that he'd seen her in to date. She seemed just as interested in what he was wearing; her eyes looking him up and down as she took the goblet off him, a small smile on her lips as she obviously appreciated how thin and revealing his clothes were.

"Seems odd to see you without that neckerchief on," she commented.

"I can put it back on if you want, my lady," he replied cheekily, "but I assumed you'd rather I started taking things _off_."

Her eyes went wide at this and she smiled slightly, but did not comment on it. "So, we dance around the fire?" she asked quietly instead.

"Yes, although that does tend to make one very warm," he replied, putting his drink down and taking into her arms.

"I imagine so," she answered quietly.

He leant down to kiss her but, although she responded wholeheartedly, and despite the temptation to move things forwards, Merlin pulled gently away from her after a fairly short time, not wanting to rush things.

"So then, we usually feel the need to remove some layers..." he continued, quickly removing his shirt before starting to move back towards her.

Morgana halted his progress briefly – placing both of her palms on his bare chest and then gently moving them upwards, caressing him. "I think I like the sound of this Welsh wedding," she said, as her hands slid up to his shoulders.

She tipped her head up towards him then, looking for another kiss, and Merlin obliged, pressing himself closely against her and deciding that he was definitely looking forward to the night ahead.

"And are _you_ beginning to feel a little too hot yet?" he asked her some time later.

"You know, Merlin. I do believe I am," she replied with a sly grin.

~o~0~o~

Merlin woke several times that night and each time was surprised and delighted to find Morgana in his embrace; legs, arms and hair entwined around him. When one of them awoke the other quickly followed and that would inevitably lead to other things.

Then, for a while after their love making, they'd just hold each other close and talk a little about their lives until one or the other fell asleep again.

"Tell me more about how you came to be Uther's ward," Merlin asked her as they lay on their sides facing each other, and he gazed at her beautiful face as it glowed by the faint light of the flickering candles. He knew the history of the Powys takeover, of course, but it was a very different thing to hear the account from someone who'd actually been there.

"Uther and my father were involved in alliance negotiations when Cenred's father attacked," Morgana began, "In fact the English party, including Gaius and Arthur's uncle, were there when it happened."

"Is that how you were able to escape?"

"Yes. Caradog's ruthlessness was well known and it was obvious that he would be looking for his enemy's three daughters. It probably wasn't his intention to kill us – we'd be far more use to him alive but, you know how it is? Soldiers in wartime … sometimes 'accidents' happen." She blinked briefly and bit her lip. "My father knew that Caradog was unlikely to spare _his_ life though and so begged Gaius and Agravaine to find his daughters and take them back to England – out of harm's way. However, the battle had arrived inside the castle far quicker than anyone had expected and, as they searched, they found my middle sister dead and couldn't find my eldest anywhere. With no time left, they decided to cut their losses and leave with just me."

"That's terrible but … Morgause survived?"

"I didn't know that for some time, of course. We all assumed she'd been killed just as Elaine had, but it wasn't long before the good news reached England. With Morgause being older, practically a woman, she had soon realised the danger she was in and had left for her own safety, deciding to run to the man she was betrothed too, hoping that she'd be well received and kept safe there."

"Prince Lot?"

"Yes. Before the attack I can often remember her complaining about not wanting to marry 'some fat, old prince' and generally being upset about not having a say in such things but, in the end, I suppose she must have realised that it was the only way she could keep herself safe."

"Were you able to get back in touch then?" Merlin asked.

"No, that's what I was starting to tell you before. Uther wouldn't let me." The flicker of the candles appeared to made her eyes suddenly burn like fire and Merlin could see the anger behind her quiet words. "He said I should forget my old family and concentrate on the new."

"But that's not right," Merlin complained. "She's of your blood. You should be able to keep in touch with her, at least."

"That's what I said but, of course, Uther never paid any attention to _my_ opinion. Eventually, news of my survival got back to Wales too but there was nothing Caradog could do about it by then. I suppose in that, at least, I have something to be grateful to Uther for." She gave him a weak smile, but Merlin could see it was an act. The hurt she felt still very much in evidence.

"Well, all that changes now that you're my wife," he declared. "I'm to stay here for a while yet but, when I do go home, you can come with me."

"And you'd let me contract my sister?" she asked hopefully.

"What? But, of course." He was shocked that she even felt the need to ask.

"Thank you, Merlin," her voice was quiet now – on the edge of sleep and it wasn't long before he joined her.

~o~0~o~

"I was suppose to attend Uther's petition session this morning," Merlin complained as they awoke some hours later to find the sun well risen.

"You're not missing much, believe me," Morgana mumbled, wrapping her arms around his waist as he started to get up, pulling him back towards her and snuggling closer.

"I know but..."

"You're newly married," she continued, her hands starting to caress him in a way that was already becoming pleasantly familiar. "You're quite entitled to spend the morning after with your wife … in bed."

"Yes, I know, it's just..."

"Yes, Merlin?" she asked with a small giggle, nibbling at his ear and then gently blowing in it; something she had already discovered was guaranteed to ensure she would get her own way.

It looked like he was going to be _very_ late.

~o~0~o~

Merlin missed much of that meeting, including the most interesting bit; the appearance of the strange old man who had lectured Uther in front of his whole court and spoke of magic and dragons. Merlin was fairly confident he knew what sort of conversation had taken place but wanted to be certain, and it didn't take much to persuade Arthur that his Welsh knowledge could be of use to him in this situation. So, shortly after the meeting had finished, Merlin was walking down several flights of stairs towards the cells in order to talk to the old man.

"Ah … the Red dragon," he intoned as Merlin approached.

"Apparently." The young man looked at him suspiciously. "Am I supposed to know you?"

"There is no reason for you to. My name is Kilgharrah and I simply came here to deliver a message to King Uther."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "You couldn't have just written him a letter?" The old man gave a short bark of laughter but didn't reply. "He plans to have you executed, you know?" the young man continued.

"And with my death he will quickly bring about his own."

"Is that a threat?" Merlin asked suspiciously.

"No, young warlock, it is but the truth."

"Right..." Why did these type of people always have to be so cryptic?

"But I am glad to have seen the Gold and the Red before the end. I also hope to see the White?"

"Morgana?"

"You do not seem certain," the old man noted.

Merlin shrugged. "All of that Tricoloured Dragon stuff is my father's obsession, not mine."

"And yet it is your destiny."

"What if I don't accept that?"

"None of us can choose our destiny, Merlin and none of us can escape it."

He raised his eyes to the ceiling. "So, what happens now?" he asked.

"Your arrival in Camelot has set the wheels of destiny in motion. Events are now happening whether you will them to or not. My death will be the first but not the last in the months to come."

"I _can_ get you out of here, you know," Merlin pushed. "It will be easy enough. I can set you free."

"No, my time is at an end now – this is fated."

"But..." Merlin heard the sound of a door closing and jumped away from the bars guiltily.

"I ask but one favour before you leave," Kilgharrah said then.

"Of course."

"Send your wife to me. I wish to meet her." Merlin looked at the old man suspiciously. "I mean her no harm but there are things she needs to know and I too have to be certain that everything is made ready."

"You're sure she'll know the answers? She's even less aware of any of this than I am."

"She has _some_ answers – that is all that matters."

Merlin looked over his shoulder nervously before turning back to the old man. "Please let me help you escape," he pushed.

"No, you need to go now. It was a true honour to meet you, Red Dragon."

~o~0~o~


	11. The Prophecy Begins

**Chapter 11: The Prophecy Begins**

"I'm sorry, I only just heard," Merlin said breathlessly as he ran into Arthur's chambers two days later, without knocking. "What happened to Uther?"

Arthur barely glanced up, pacing back and forth near the window, frowning hard. "He suddenly went wild – talking of ghost and spirits and..." He pulled a face. "Saying that he'd seen my mother."

"But I thought she died..." Arthur glared at him and Merlin paused as he realised what he'd said. "Oh … I see. Sorry."

"So, I sent for Gaius and he found this strange root under the bed," Arthur continued. "Magic, the old man said."

"A mandrake root," Merlin supplied.

"If you say so. Anyway, that's been destroyed now and Father's beginning to recover."

"But who would have done something like that?" Merlin asked.

"Someone with knowledge of the Druidic ways?" Arthur fixed Merlin with a hard stare.

"Hey, not guilty."

"Well, I know _that_. It seems it was the old man who cast the enchantment."

"Kilgharrah? Are you sure?"

"Who else would it be?"

Merlin frowned. "But, when would he have had the chance?"

"I admit that I wondered that too, but it does make a certain amount of sense – seeing he threatened the king's life."

"I suppose but..."

"Anyway, none of that is important at the moment," Arthur continued. "For now, we just need to ensure that my father gets better and that means I have even more work to do than usual." He sighed. "At least I have Agravaine to help me."

"You trust him?" Merlin asked carefully.

"What? Of course I do. Why would you even ask?"

"Nothing, it's just..." Merlin knew it was totally irrational but there was something about the man that made him feel uneasy.

"He's my uncle, my mother's brother and has always been there for us," Arthur continued.

"He had a hand in helping Morgana escape from Powys too, I gather."

"Yes. As I said, a loyal member of the family, and I shall certainly be grateful for his help whilst my father is recovering."

"Yes, of course. What about the betrothal that Uther was arranging for you?"

Arthur's lips twitched very slightly. "Oh, I thought that the final paper work for that could get pushed to the bottom of the pile for a while. No sense in rushing these things."

Merlin laughed. "Well, you might as well get _some_ benefit from being in charge."

"Not that it makes any difference in the long run," Arthur said with a sigh. "Just delaying the inevitable, really."

"Perhaps there's some way to persuade the king to let you marry Gwen and then..."

"What? Who said I want to marry Guinevere."

"Yes right, Arthur, like you're _that_ good at hiding your feelings for each other. It's so obvious a blind man could see it."

"Shut up, Merlin."

He laughed and left with a bow, walking the short distance to his own chambers. On opening the door he discovered his wife at the window with her back to him and saw her jump at the sound of him entering.

"Morgana?" he asked. She turned around quickly, placing her hands behind her back with an expression that almost seemed guilty. "What's the matter?"

"N-nothing," she replied. "Came over a bit faint. Just needed a bit of air."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, yes. It was just... seeing Uther like that." She shook her head. "I may not always approve of his ideas but, seeing such a strong man become suddenly so weak. I suppose it could happen to any of us."

"Of course." His eyes flicked down to her hand which was balled into a fist and apparently clutching at something. "Morgana, are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me?"

"No, honestly, it's fine. I'm feeling much better now, thank you."

~o~0~o~

A few months later Merlin was woken suddenly from a deep sleep – sitting bolt upright in his bed with a small cry.

"What is it?" Morgana asked sleepily, next to him.

"I've just received a message," he explained, lighting a candle with a casual flash of his eyes and fumbling on the side table for the small gem he always kept there.

"A message?" Morgana looked over towards the window, frowning. "I thought the Welsh used ravens?"

"Yes, but this is much quicker – depending on the power of the user, obviously." He picked up a small, blue gem and held it in his palm, concentrating.

"_Father?"_

"_Merlin." _Balinor's voice sounded as clearly as if he was standing right next to him.

"_What is it?" _Merlin asked

"_Prince Lot is dead."_

"_No! When?"_

"_Yesterday. News has just reached us and I thought I'd give you a heads-up. I don't expect official word will reach Camelot for another day or two."_

"_Of course."_

"_Don't tell Arthur yet, best not to alert him of the true nature of your magical ability."_

Merlin pulled a face, wishing he could be more open with the young man he was already viewing as a good friend. "_What about Morgana? She's with me now and knows I've received a message."_

"_That's up to you, of course, and rather depends on how much you've already mentioned to her"_

"_I've told her a little. She has magic too, you know?"_

"_I assumed she would." _There was a pause._ How are you enjoying married life?" _

"_Very much. I look forward to introducing you to her."_

"_And I look forward to meeting her. Sorry Merlin, I have to go, it's crazy here, as you can imagine. Your mother sends her love."_

"_Send it back for me. Keep me informed?"_

"_Of course."_

Merlin opened his eyes and turned to Morgana with a shrug. "Father. News from Wales."

"Just like that?" Her eyes were wide and curious, starting at the stone greedily. "How does that work?"

"Magic, of course. You might be able to use it too, with a little practice but, I've only the one gem here and you wouldn't be able to contract someone you didn't know over such a great distance anyway."

She continued to quiz him about the stone and his magic and, in some ways, Merlin felt pleased to be able to answer her immediate questions without having to make a decision about the Meirionnydd news – even though he did play down just how much power he really possessed. However, it wasn't long after that he received another push from the gem and, with a shrug of apology at Morgana, picked it up again.

"_What's happening now?" _he asked his father.

"_The Druids have been in touch. They have called the Dragon Truce in relation to this succession."_

"_Oh."_

"_It's started."_

~o~0~o~

The following day, Uther called everyone into an urgent meeting, and there Geoffrey officially announced the news of Lot's death before Merlin added his own opinion on the issue, also mentioning the Druid's involvement in the succession.

"His death is not exactly unexpected, but the timing is not at all good for Wales, as Lot's preferred successor is still a child and that can only mean one thing."

"War?" Leon guessed. Merlin nodded gravely.

"But, I thought you said that there wasn't the same right of succession there as there is over here?" Arthur commented. "I thought you said it was the strongest warrior that would take the throne."

"Ordinarily that would be the case, but the boy's mother, Morgause, has been preparing for this for a while now and has apparently made an alliance with Cenred of Powys behind her late husband's back"

In his haste to distract Morgana from the general news as his father had suggested, Merlin had forgotten that this all affected her rather more personally than anyone else here. Lot's widow was his wife's sister, her young son was her nephew. He turned towards her at the sound of her gasp to be faced with her sternest stare. He mouthed an apology, whilst already starting to work out strategies for making it up to her later on. It hadn't been that long since their wedding, but Merlin had quickly come to understand that Morgana was a passionate and emotional person, which made for a very exciting but highly unpredictable marriage.

And it wasn't just his wife that he'd been keeping things from. Even as they discussed the possible succession and the Prophecy, Merlin happily let Arthur believe that Gwaine was a serious candidate for The Dragon, yet again justifying the lie by deciding there just hadn't been the time or the opportunity to correct the assumption. He only hoped these 'oversights' didn't come back to haunt him later.

Luckily Uther was happy for Arthur to return to Wales with him and that was definitely good news as far as Balinor's claim was concerned. Merlin had to admit that he still didn't know how he felt about his own apparent role in the Tricoloured Dragon Prophecy, especially considering that everything was happening far sooner than he had expected. This event was supposed to herald the next generation of rulers in Wales which meant it _should_ occur many years in the future. He supposed the Druids must have it all in hand.

First however, Merlin had to make sure that the prospective White Dragon was still on his side.

"Oh, it's just news from my Father," she began the second they were alone in the room, her tone mocking as she attempting to impersonate him. "It's just news from Wales. Nothing important!"

"Morgana, I'm really..."

"Only important for us menfolk – no need to bother the wife with it." She raised her voice even further. "Even if it does involve her very own sister."

"I really _am_ sorry, Morgana, truly. I was going to tell you but, with so much else going on I suppose I just... forgot." He winced

"You just forgot to tell me, or just forgot she was my sister?" she snarled. "Well thanks, Merlin, that's just great. Have you also forgotten that you'd promised to let me contact her when we arrived in Wales?"

"No, I haven't, I assure you."

"I was _so_ convinced I got a good deal here too. Quite certain you were better than Uther."

"Hey, I promised, didn't I? I'd never keep someone away from their family." Her response was a mere grunt but he felt that she was starting to calm a little now. "Anyway, all of this does mean that we're going back to Wales straight away and, not only that, we'll be going to Meirionnydd itself."

She looked up brightly. "Really?"

"Yes so, you may even see her. I mean there will be a huge number of people gathered there but … hopefully."

"Well, that's good." He smiled brightly at her positive comment which instantly prompted a glare from her. "But don't believe for one moment that this means I forgive you."

"All right." He nodded thoughtfully, smiling slightly. "Is there anything you can think of that could help with that?" He made no attempt to hide the highly suggestive tone of voice.

Morgana raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I can think of _something_ for you to do tonight that might make amends," she replied, her voice now much softer.

"Tonight? Are you sure I can't get on with that apology now? I have a meeting with Arthur in a little while and I'd hate to be distracted by the fact that my wife is still upset with me."

"Now?" She grinned slightly. "It's barely afternoon."

"So? What does that have to do with anything?" he retorted with a cheeky smile of his own.

~o~0~o~

"You were supposed to be here an hour ago," Arthur said as Merlin entered his chambers later that afternoon.

"Yes, I'm sorry, I got … distracted."

"By what? Is there more news from the west?"

"No, I was just spending some personal time with Morgana." He grinned suggestively and enjoyed seeing the Prince's expression change slowly from confusion to uncomfortable realisation. "I'd forgotten to keep her informed as she'd asked and so I had to... make restitution."

"Couldn't that have waited until tonight?" Arthur complained.

"I think tonight's part two," he replied with another broad grin.

"Shut up, Merlin."

"Sorry," he replied, insincerely, "but I'm glad your father was happy for you to come back to Wales again. The Druids have asked for us to be there within the week so we'll have to leave promptly. Tomorrow preferably."

"Actually, I'm not sure if I _should_ be leaving Camelot right now."

"What do you mean?" Merlin tried hard not to let the panic show in his voice. Arthur _had_ to come, Balinor was quite specific about that.

"I'm not convinced that Father's fully recovered and am worried about leaving him … about leaving Camelot in these circumstances."

"Isn't Agravaine staying behind?"

"Well yes, but..."

Merlin grinned. "And didn't you say that you had total faith in your uncle's abilities?"

"Yes, yes, I know."

"So, what's the problem?"

"The problem is that Gaius will be travelling with us too and that means that there really is no-one else here that I trust with my father's health. Being Welsh he recognises all the magical ailments too and, well, the king does have a number of enemies in that regard as you can probably imagine."

"Well yes, that doesn't surprise me, but I think you'll find that people like Kilgharrah are an exception to the rule. The old man must have been incredibly powerful to have managed something like that. I still can't begin to work out how he did it."

"Exactly, that's why I think that I should stay behind."

"I don't see why Gaius can't stay," Merlin pushed.

"Father won't hear of it. He wants the physician there. Wants the 'Welsh' perspective from someone he knows to be loyal to the English cause, and only Gaius fits the bill."

"I can understand that, I suppose, but what does Gaius say about this? I'm sure he wouldn't leave if he thought for a moment that the king might have need of him."

"He said he was recovering well," Arthur admitted quietly.

"Well then, everything's decided," Merlin declared, clapping a friendly hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Perhaps but..."

"Of course, if you were _that_ worried about your father, I could easily arrange a way for us to stay in touch once we're back in Wales," Merlin said with a sly grin.

"What? What's with the smirk?"

"Well, let's just say it's not a form of communication that Uther would approve of."

"Magic?" Arthur looked as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

"Ravens."

"What?"

"They carry messages for us all the time back home," Merlin explained.

"Oh, is _that_ how you found out about Lot so quickly?"

"Ah, yes." It wasn't, of course, but at least this way he could continue to keep his magic a secret just as his father had instructed him. Now was not the time for Arthur or anyone in England to know just how much power he really had.

"But as you said... my father. It would hardly help his health to have some big, black bird land on his windowsill."

"That's true but, if the king is adamant that Gaius comes with us, then we'll suggest that Geoffrey stays here instead. He knows how to handle the birds which means we can pass messages back and forth with no problem."

"Well, I'm still not sure..."

"So, that's all sorted then," Merlin continued, ignoring Arthur's concern. "Looks like you'd better start packing. We've an early start tomorrow."

~o~0~o~


	12. Proposing The Dragon

**__****A/N: **_Warnings for nudity and minor sexual adult scenes in line with the T rating for this story. (Merlin's pov of the bonfire scene)_

* * *

**Chapter 12: Proposing The Dragon**

Despite the urgency of their journey, Merlin had never happier or more relaxed as he rode west back towards Wales with his friends. The small group were all young and experts on horses and, because of this, made much of the journey into a game – a competition, which Merlin usually ended up winning. Morgana accused him of cheating, of course, and wouldn't believe him when he insisted that he wasn't using magic.

Well, he certainly wasn't casting any spells, but Balinor was convinced that Merlin's amazing relationship with horses was a part of his general magical ability and so perhaps, in a way, he did have a bit of an advantage during these races.

Their initial destination was Castell Carndochan in Penllyn where Gwen had grown up and, thanks to their hard riding, the group arrived there on the day of the summer Solstice itself. Merlin had always hoped to have a proper Druid ceremony to formalise his marriage to Morgana, but hadn't known when he would be returning to Wales – aware that it could be years until he was called home. So, the timing of this was quite remarkable but, even as he had that thought, Merlin realised that it may not have been as much of a co-incidence as it first appeared. What was it that Kilgharrah had said?

"_Your arrival in Camelot has set the wheels of destiny in motion. Events are now happening whether you will them to or not."_

Merlin felt a strange feeling of dread as he recalled the old man's words, not at all reassured by what they implied.

On their arrival, they were greeted by Balinor and Thomas and promptly assigned chambers where they could prepare for the evening's ceremony. Once settled, the four young friends then walked the winding stairs to the top tower to meet with Ruadan the Raven Master and his birds, in order to discuss the possibility of sending messages back to England. Morgana took one look at the special cages and let out a low cry, moving rapidly towards them, her face so full of affection that anyone would think that she had seen a basket full of fluffy kittens rather than a bunch of large, formidable birds.

Ruadan moved quickly forward, a warning on his lips about worrying his charges, but Morgana had already begun to make a small, low sound in her throat, instantly gained the birds' attention. Each one then cocked their head to listen, before the largest suddenly hopped onto the perch nearest to her, making both Arthur and Gwen jump.

"Now then, my lady, you're a natural, you are," Ruadan noted. "Have you dealt with ravens before?"

"Oh no." Morgana paused. "Ah … well, a bit..." She winced and Merlin frowned, wondering at the correction. "When I was very small, we had some at Powys, obviously but … I'd forgotten about that until now."

"Really? You do seem especially confident around them," the man remarked.

"So, you use them to send messages," Arthur asked Ruadan then. "How do they know where to go?"

"They are naturally clever, of course, and some are simply used as homing birds." Arthur shook his head, still not understanding. "Other birds can be used that way too - pigeons for example. They are born and raised in one place and then, when you take a cage of them to... Dinas Emrys, for example, and Balinor wants to send a message back here, he would simply tie it on one bird's leg and let him go. It'll then fly straight home." He pointed to the floor. "Back to this tower … letter attached."

"But we were hoping to send a message to England and so, that won't work, will it?" the prince asked. "Not if we don't have birds of our own there."

"No, in that case, you will need a _special_ conspiracy of ravens – like these."

"You mean that these are magically trained," Morgana suggested.

"Yes," Ruadan replied. "They are brought up by Masters trained in the Druidic arts who use magic to enhance the birds' natural abilities, and this will ultimately allow them to fly anywhere. To any place or to a specific person."

"How? How would we send a bird to Geoffrey of Monmouth in Camelot?" It seemed that Arthur curiosity was rapidly overcoming his distrust of magic.

"I am almost as well travelled as my birds," Ruadan replied with a sly smile. "I know what Camelot looks like. I have also met Geoffrey, on a number of occasions, so giving that direction will not be a problem either way."

Merlin smiled at Arthur's dumbstruck expression and turned to find Morgana now even closer to the cage, again cooing and apparently communicating with the large bird that seemed to find her as fascinating as she found it.

"She likes you, which is unusual," the Master commented.

"Oh, is she not usually friendly?"

"Most ravens can only be handled by their Master. These special birds, however, may find themselves attracted to those with..."

"Ahem!" Merlin coughed gently.

"... certain personalities," the man quickly corrected himself, exchanging an amused smile with the young man.

Merlin could also work easily with ravens, just as he could with horses, no matter how temperamental. In fact, it seemed that he was able to communicate with most animals on one level or another.

"So, do we have your permission to take a couple of birds with us to Meirionnydd?" he asked Ruadan asked then. "We may encounter a few of the standard ravens over there to send within Wales, but it would be good to be able to contact England at some point."

"Of course, I'll happily place them in your charge, Merlin. Did you also wish to send one now? Just as a reassurance that they will know where to go?"

"That would be great. If you wouldn't mind?" He turned a questioning look towards Arthur who gave a rather reluctant looking nod.

Moments later the short note confirming their safe arrival in Wales was attached to a raven perched on Ruadan's arm. The man stared at it for a while, and Merlin was easily able to sense a faint hint of magic as the bird was given his instructions, before being taken to the window and gently released. The five of them then watched until the raven was no more than a black speck disappearing into the distance.

"The afternoon is nearly over," Merlin reminded his friends then. "It's time we started to get ready for this evening."

~o~0~o~

The great solstice bonfire was already burning furiously when Merlin arrived. He took off the jacket he was wearing over his thin, white ceremonial outfit and looked around to note with surprise how many people were here already. Spotting Balinor, the young man walked in the direction of the spectator area, his attention _so_ focused on the jug and goblets on the small table next to his father that he barely acknowledged Arthur at all. He was feeling exceptionally self conscious about the audience anyway and having the prince as an observer tonight was definitely not something he felt comfortable about. So, Merlin made a beeline for the drink, knowing that its effects would soon dull all his inhibitions and looking forward to the fact.

"May you find what you are looking for." Balinor spoke the ritual words before handing the goblet over.

"I believe I already have, Father," Merlin replied once he'd drunk it, "but it will be interesting to see if the gods agree." The effect was almost instantaneous and he suddenly swayed on the spot, grabbing a wooden pole to steady himself. "Ooh!"

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"Strong stuff, this," Merlin replied, handing the goblet back to Balinor. Already the world was appearing a little less focused; sights and sounds were enhanced and he became far more aware of his magic than usual as it seemed to surge through his blood and sing in his ears.

"You are welcome to sample this too, if you wish."

Merlin was abruptly snapped out of his near trance, turning to see Balinor handing another goblet to Arthur.

"Father! What are you doing?" The English prince surely had no idea what the drink was.

"All are welcome to take the drink, and answer the question, if it is what they want."

The look on his father's face was very familiar and the young sorcerer became instantly suspicious. However, in questioning his motives, all he did was make Arthur even more suspicious.

"What? You think I can't handle it, Merlin?"

He hadn't understood what taking the drink meant, of course but, by now, its effect had taken a firm hold on Merlin and he realised that he no longer felt concerned about the issue. He watched unemotionally as Arthur downed the liquid before turning back to Balinor. His father gave him a broad wink in response and Merlin just shrugged in reply, seeing Morgana approach and easily being distracted by the fact.

She looked incredible. The white, flowing gown was far simpler than any dress he'd seen his wife wear up until this point but, to him, at that moment, she had never looked more beautiful or desirable, even though she currently had her arms wrapped around herself, obviously feeling self conscious about wearing so little.

"You look gorgeous," he informed her as she approached. "Perfect."

"I had no idea the dress would be so thin." She looked around nervously as if every eye would be on her.

"Come and take the drink. You'll not mind so much after that and it'll also help you to warm up." He had already told her about the ceremony, of course, but that didn't stop her looking highly suspicious of the goblet as it was handed to her.

Gwen then approached them from the other side of the field and that quickly drew Merlin's attention back to Arthur. The prince looked far more relaxed now, a soppy look on his face which turned to wide-eyed awe as Gwen walked past him. Merlin went over to talk to his new friend but found it hard to get any coherent response, the prince's eyes now so focused on the woman he loved that nothing else appeared to be registering with him.

"Should he take part?" Merlin asked Balinor. "Does he even know what he's doing?"

"You think _that_ isn't proof enough?" his father replied, pointing to way Arthur was reacting to Gwen. Merlin shook his head, still not convinced and moved back over to his friends.

"Why are you all wearing … so little?" Arthur voice was softer than usual and his question far more curious than accusing.

"Why, Arthur, don't you like my dress?" Morgana teased, spreading her arms wide to make it quite obvious that she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath her very thin outfit. The blond just blinked as he looked at her; his reaction subtly different to the way he looked at Gwen but still, Merlin suspected he'd not be staring at her quite so obviously under normal circumstances.

"It's all a bit … confusing," Arthur admitted.

Merlin exchanged a pointed look with Gwen and she nodded, gaining the young prince's attention by resting a gentle hand on his arm. Arthur turned towards her and seemed surprised all over again at seeing her there.

"You don't have to take part in this, Arthur," she said, biting her lip – obviously reluctant to admit to such a thing. "This is a Druidic bonding ceremony – a marriage, if you will. In fact, you probably _shouldn't_ be involved."

"I believe that it is only right that I fully understand all of your customs," the young Englishman said with a daft smile that looked especially odd on his usually serious features.

"Arthur, you'll be asked who you choose but, you must remember that you don't have to answer," Merlin clarified. "You can just be an observer or you can take part casually. You don't need to answer the Druid's question. Remember that."

"What question?"

"He'll ask you to choose someone," Gwen repeated. "Someone to bond with. Someone to marry." Arthur nodded, the goofy smile on his face. "You don't have to reply."

"Oh, all right."

Merlin raised his eyes to the sky, not at all convinced his friend understood. "Well then, everyone's gathering and we have to go over there..." He pointed to where the elderly Druid leader was standing in a long, flowing white robes. "You … stay … _here_." The young Welshman pointed firmly to the spot they were standing on and Arthur nodded seriously as the three turned to leave. However, they hadn't moved very far away when Merlin felt someone bump roughly against his shoulder and turned to see his friend standing exceptionally close to him, nodding stupidly.

At that point, he decided to give up.

~o~0~o~

It was everything Merlin had dreamt of and more. Saying the words, _'I choose Morgana', _and hearing her say that she chose him was one of the most special moments of his life. After they had exchanged their vows, they kissed – the taste of the drink on her lips seeming to double the effect it had on him – increasing his desire for her even further.

Gwen was asked the question next and at first she responded sadly. _"The one I choose __should not choose me."_

"_Why? Is he not here?" _the druid asked.

"_He is, but..."_

"_Let me ask him the question then." _

By this point Merlin had lost all concerns about the political problems that Arthur may encounter from being involved in this ceremony. All the could think of at that moment was that he was the happiest man alive to now be officially bonded to the girl of his dreams and that it was only fair that his two best friends got to experience the same joy. He called Arthur forward and translated the question into English for him.

"Who do you choose, Arthur, son of Uther, born of England. What is it you want more than anything else?"

"Guinevere," he replied, suddenly sounding serious and perfectly sober. "_Always_ Guinevere."

~o~0~o~

The question had now been asked of all those that has chosen to take part and there was only the fire celebration left. Now, Merlin only had eyes for Morgana. _His_ Morgana. He danced with her much as he had on their very first night together, but this was far more special to him. They danced and they kissed in front of the fire and then, at some point, their clothes were discarded altogether. A little later she managed to distract him briefly, pointing over to their left with a delighted laugh, and Merlin turned to see Gwen and Arthur also naked and kissing nearby and the look of pure joy on both of their faces was enough to have him grinning wildly in return. "I'm glad," was all he said, and Morgana nodded in response before pulling her husband back towards her, her hands blazing warm trails of fire as she caressed his bare skin and encouraged him to finish what he'd started.

~o~0~o~

They arrived in Meirionnydd late the following day to find the camp already full. Arthur still seemed confused and disorientated from the drink and Gwen was concerned that he appeared to have remembered nothing of the ceremony or their intimate time together around the camp fire which would mean, of course, that their marriage was not considered binding.

So, as Arthur left for an early night, she followed suit; first going into her own the tent to change into her white gown, and then entering his in order to present herself to him again when he was sober – fully expecting to be rejected once the Englishman finally understood exactly what the ceremony had been all about.

Once those two had left, Merlin and Morgana took the small cage containing the three birds that Ruadan had given them to the raven master at this camp – not having had enough time to do so earlier. There the birds could be in the company of others of their kind and checked over by one who had a far greater knowledge about such things. Depending on the outcome of tomorrow's ceremony, Merlin planned to send a raven to Camelot with the news, as he fortunately had enough empathy and magic to be able to imprint the bird without the need of a Master to assist him. Yet again, he was struck at how enthusiastic Morgana was, quickly befriending the old man and asking questions about his own birds, despite her limited Welsh and his non-existent English.

~o~0~o~

The following morning Merlin awoke to find himself alone in his furs, only for Morgana to come back into their tent a few moments later.

"Trouble sleeping?" he asked.

"A little. I went for a walk."

Merlin worried that she seemed a little distant and hoped he'd not done anything to upset her. "Are you coming back to bed?" he asked gently.

"Isn't it almost time for the ceremony?" she replied with a weak smile.

"You're probably right. It's going to be a very busy day."

The Dragon Proposing ceremony was a nervous time for Merlin. He was having to translate for Arthur and Morgana whilst also worrying about what the Prophecy might have in store for him. He was also slightly distracted by Morgana's reaction when Morgause came forward – trying to explain to his wife that now was _not_ the time to renew old acquaintances, especially when they were on opposing sides at the moment.

Quite literally, it seemed, as Morgause proposed herself as the White aspect, along with Cenred as the Gold and her son Mordred as the Red whilst, shortly after, Balinor stepped forward with his own proposition.

"_I propose, Merlin ap Balinor of Gwynedd, Arthur ab Uther of England and Morgana ferch Gorlois of Powys."_

Why did Merlin feel so shocked on hearing those words? He knew that was going to happen, didn't he? He'd known it was going to be the three of them from the moment he'd first set foot in Camelot.

Well, that was not yet confirmed. They had the trials to negotiate first.

~o~0~o~

Once the ceremony had finished, Morgana was the first to approach him, pulling him roughly by the arm, her eyes wild. "What does this all mean, Merlin? Why am I named?"

"You're potentially the white aspect of The Tricoloured Dragon," he replied.

"Yes but, what does that _mean_?"

"I only know part of of it and there are trials to take part in first."

"What sort of trials?" she pushed.

"For the white aspect? I have no idea," he replied with a goofy smile.

"Very helpful," she replied sarcastically. "How can I take part in a test if I don't know the rules?"

"You should ask someone who _does_ know then. Perhaps Iseldir."

"Who?"

"The Druid who lead the ceremony?"

She looked over towards the man, frowning, then back at Merlin – biting her lip – before moving her gaze back across the field again. "I suppose..." she decided eventually.

"Merlin, can I have a word?"

"In a moment, Arthur."

"No. _Now_, Merlin."

Morgana turned from her contemplation of the milling crowd and noticed who her husband was talking to. "No, that's all right," she said with a smile. "I'm sure Arthur has even more questions than me. I'll go and talk to … Iseldir then."

"There you see, now you've time," Arthur said, grabbing his friend's arm and pulling him roughly towards him. "Right, Merlin. No more secrets, no more evasions. What's going on? All of it now."

~o~0~o~

The Red Dragon trials were exceptionally simple for Merlin. Spells he had learnt as a child – tasks and questions that required him to use the knowledge that he had spent his life hungrily devouring. After that, he was asked to sense Arthur and Morgana – to point to where he believed them to be – and he found that task even easier. Despite having first noticed that strange pull from as far back as when Arthur had first arrived in Dinas Emrys, even Merlin hadn't fully appreciated how strongly he could feel it now. How strongly he _always_ felt it – even when he wasn't really concentrating.

And so, it seemed, that Balinor had been right all along. Merlin, Arthur and Morgana were the Tricoloured Dragon.

~o~0~o~

* * *

_**A/N:** Special Cameo by Erin in this chapter - a raven I met at the Tower of London in May. See my PP for a video link as well as _all_ the art created for this story. _

_You'll also find details of my writing progress (Very good at the moment!) and see what else I've got lined up for you. :D_


	13. White Defection

******__****A/N: **_Warnings for minor sexual adult scenes in line with the T rating for this story._

* * *

**Chapter 13: White Defection**

"There's something troubling you," Merlin commented as he watched Morgana stare off into the distance the night after the Prophecy pronouncement.

"What? No, I'm fine."

"I know you're used to feeling a bit of an outsider but that's no longer true, I hope you realise that. You can talk to me, Morgana, you _know_ you can."

She shook her head. "Honestly, it's fine. I'm just tired and … all of this Dragon business. It's just confusing, that's all."

"Well, I can certainly understand that. Come to bed, then." He grinned as she raised an eyebrow at him. "Let me help you to take your mind off things."

Their love making was intense that evening; Merlin would even describe it as frantic. Morgana knew him well by now, knew how to work him up, how to both frustrated him and satisfy him and she seemed especially passionate – extra loving. Afterwards, Merlin collapsed exhausted into his wife's arms and almost immediately started to feel the pull of sleep as she gently stroked his hair.

"You're not making this easy for me, you know," he heard her whisper as he drifted off.

~o~0~o~

Merlin woke with a start, convinced that he'd just received a message. However the magical pull he was now feeling was something very different from the sensation he usually got from a communication gem and, for a moment, he had no idea for the reason behind the feeling.

"Morgana?" He patted the furs in the still dark tent, before quickly lighting a candle with magic, only to find that he was alone. It appeared that it was almost dawn and, with that realisation, Merlin felt a sudden sense of dread: The very same sensation, he realised, that had pulled him awake in the first place. He dressed quickly and, fear now driving him, stepped outside just as the sun started to rise in-between the nearby mountains.

That was when he heard the unmistakable blast of a war horn to the south.

"Cenred," he snarled, running into the nearest tent to wake the occupants, even as he called silently to his Father. For good measure he sent the telepathic message again, this time more generally, so that anyone with magic in the camp would be able to hear him.

"_We're under attack. Rouse everyone." _

There was no need for further instructions; all Welsh people were well versed in war, after all. If they could wield a weapon they came out of the tent and headed forwards, towards the south. If they could not fight or did not wish to do so against Powys, they moved in the opposite direction; north, into the heart of Meirionnydd and relative safety.

"_Merlin! "Where are you going?"_ Balinor asked in Welsh as he came forward and placed an arm on his son's shoulder.

"_To check on Arthur and Gwen. Have you seen Morgana?" _

"_No, but I'll get the others and find her too. You need to get out there. We need your abilities."_

"_I've just got this sense that something is badly wrong. Recently Morgana has been..."_

"_Now, Merlin! Cenred is attacking and he's got both Morgause and Mordred on his side. We won't be able to hold out without your magic."_

Merlin nodded and left, only to find himself immediately under attack by three Powys soldiers. He parried one blow with his sword whilst simultaneously lashing out on both sides with his magic. That accomplished, he turned to work out where he should head next only to see a familiar blond head not far from him and sprinted towards Arthur, grabbing his arm urgently.

"Have you seen Morgana?" he asked.

"No," Arthur replied. "She's not with you?"

"She wasn't there when I woke."

"I'm sure she's fine."

Merlin shook his head. "I've got a horrible feeling..."

"What?"

Another group of soldiers were heading their way and Arthur turned to confront one whilst Merlin lazily pushed the others away with a burst of magic. He knew he should be focusing entirely on the battle but there was something else going on here, something important he'd missed.

"_Merlin."_ A vaguely familiar, silent voice entered his head and looked around, searching for the source until his eyes fell on the Druid, Iseldir. _"I have a message for the Red from __the White." _

Merlin threw a stronger burst of magic out to flatten a couple more attackers before running over to the old man who was standing, unafraid, with his back against the face of the cliff.

"_From Morgana?"_ he asked in Welsh as he reached the man.

"_The White has defected. She has gone over to Powys."_

"_No!" _Merlin shouted. _"No. I don't believe it. She wouldn't."_

"_I'm afraid there's no doubt. She left you this," _Iseldir replied calmly, handing Merlin a piece of parchment.

He opened it just as Arthur arrived, "What? What did he say?" the Englishman asked but Merlin's eyes were now on the note, his eyes brimming with tears.

_I'm sorry, Merlin. I know this will hurt you and that is my one and only regret. All I have ever wanted was to go home to Powys – to my sister. Uther thwarted me at every turn and will pay for that very soon. Now I am home. Now I am where I belong._

"_No,"_ he thought, tears stinging his eyes. _"You belong with me."_

"He said she's left," he replied out loud to Arthur's question. "He said Morgana's gone over to Powys."

"No, he must be mistaken," Arthur insisted. "She must have been taken against her will."

"Read it for yourself," Merlin said, shoving the piece of parchment into his hands.

The note had only said that she had wanted to be with Morgause, but Merlin still wanted to believe Arthur was right – hoped that perhaps she'd been forced to write the message for some reason. Either way Merlin was certain that Morgana didn't know what Cenred and Morgause were capable of and certainly would've heard the same stories that he had whilst she was living in England. If only there had been more time, if only he had been more honest with her, more open. Perhaps then…

"Merlin, what are you doing?"

He almost hadn't realised the direction he had been heading in but, even as he mulled over the true meaning of Morgana's words, Merlin could feel his anger starting to build. He had a reputation for being calm and easy going, with people commenting on how rarely he became angry but, when he _was_ annoyed, when someone _did_ cross him...

"Did they learn _nothing_ from yesterday?" Merlin snarled at Arthur, no longer caring about Balinor's instruction. "Did they not understand what it meant?"

"What are you doing?" Arthur repeated drawing his sword, his voice fearful. He came alongside his friend, obviously planning to guard him, not yet understanding that Merlin wasn't the one that needed protecting.

"They are seriously stupid enough to attempt to trisect The Dragon and forget that its head breathes fire."

Merlin pushed forward until he had a good view of the Powys army stretched in front of him and then, focusing hard on his spell and making it specific to his enemy, gathered every bit of power he could muster and threw it out in front of him with more force than he ever had before. Bright flames rushed forward over friend and foe alike, but only those from Cenred's army got burned. As the soldiers from the north started to scramble up and flee towards him, Merlin braced himself, waiting for the expected counter spell from Morgause, but nothing came.

Confused, he focused again and, on seeing some of the army unscathed and still far too close for his liking, Merlin struck again, this time simply using a pushing spell, forcing them back, making his intentions clear. They may have taken his wife from him but he would _not_ let them take Meirionnydd. He would now claim _that_ kingdom for Gwynedd.

"Why are they not fighting back?" he asked out loud.

"Y-you expect them to respond to … that." Arthur's voice sounded uncharacteristically nervous and Merlin turned a bleak grin on him. Interestingly that didn't appear to reassure the prince and he even took a small step backwards as he took note of his friend's expression.

"You don't need to fear me," Merlin said, starting to understand Arthur's reaction.

"If you say so."

"Morgause is a pretty powerful sorceress by all accounts. Mordred … well, the boy was actually my closest competition yesterday. He could be a match for my power when he's older. Together..." Merlin shook his head. "Together they could give me quite a challenge." He took a deep breath, struggling to get the next words out. "With Morgana on their side too I would really be tested but … they're not using any magic at all. Why?"

"I don't know and, to be honest, right at this moment I don't care," Arthur replied. "It seems that they're retreating but … what are we to do? How can we get Morgana back?"

"I'm not sure." Merlin hadn't wanted to attempt to sense her before now but, seeing he was getting calmer he pushed his mind out, focusing on the third part of their trio. "Ah, there _is_ magic being used but …" He frowned, focusing on hard to get a better sense of it.

"What?" Arthur asked.

"It's defensive, protective."

"Are they definitely retreating? Can you tell?"

He checked again. "Yes."

"And are you going to let them go?"

Merlin paused for the longest time before answering. "I think I'll have to. Father will want us to hold Meirionnydd."

"Merlin! You have to come." The two young men turned instantly on hearing Gwen's voice.

"Thank God you're safe," Arthur sighed, holding his arms out to her, but she just shook her head, settling for resting a reassuring hand on his chest instead, her eyes never leaving Merlin's.

"What? What is it?" the young sorcerer asked.

"It's your father. He was escorting me north but was hit by an arrow. He's with the physician now."

"No!"

"I'm sorry, Merlin but it doesn't look good. He's asking for you. Hurry."

~o~0~o~

"Father!" Merlin ran into the tent and pushed Gaius to one side, inspecting the wound for himself. "Perhaps I can heal it."

"You know that's not one of your strengths. It's too deep, it's … too late."

He looked up at the physician who shook his head in silent confirmation. "No..." Merlin put his hand over the injury. "Let me try at least. It should dull the pain if nothing else." Balinor simply smiled weakly and so, with tears in his eyes, Merlin cast a healing spell as best he could.

"Better. Thank you," the prince replied. "Son, you must go to Castell Y Bere. You must claim Meirionnydd in the name of Gwynedd."

"Later. When you're better."

"No, Merlin, now! Your prince commands it." He managed to glare at his father, despite his muddled emotions. "I name you as my successor, Merlin, but you understand that you must _earn_ that title too. Be strong, use your power. I know that you will make me proud."

"Father, please let me stay."

Balinor shook his head. "By right of conquest and right of blood," he reminded his son, looking over to the entrance where Arthur and Gwen were standing quietly. The Englishman nodded his understanding of Balinor's silent request and came over, taking his friend's arm.

"He's right, Merlin, it's chaos out there. Someone needs to take charge and, after your display early, I can't imagine that any of them will deny your authority."

"But..."

"I'll be there too – if it helps." His friend sounded uncharacteristically modest and Merlin gave him a weak smile of gratitude. Of course it would help. In fact, he couldn't imagine being able to continue this campaign without Arthur by his side.

With one final look over his shoulder, and a nod from both Gaius and Balinor, Merlin left the tent, fighting to control his anger and grief and determined to use it instead. To turn it to his advantage and ensure the victory that his father desired.

He hoped there was no sound of weakness in his voice when he called for everyone's attention. Not all people here would automatically be on his side, but a large number had come over to him; either due to respect for his father or through fear of Merlin's very great power. Gwaine was one of the first, clapping a firm hand on both men's shoulders.

"To Castell Y Bere?" he asked.

"Yes," Merlin replied. "I'm about to take your birthright away from you. Will you follow me as you follow Balinor?"

Gwaine dropped down on one knee. "As much as I respect your father, I am even more content to have _you_ be my liege prince."

Merlin was stunned. "Oh, do get up, Gwaine. Fawning doesn't suit you." Next to him, Arthur laughed loudly at the exchange.

Gwaine stood up with a broad grin. "I take it you still want me to help administer this region though?"

"Of course. As Lot's eldest son, you have the support and blood right that I don't, which should help prevent rebellion from those more patriotic lords." He sighed, "Talking of which, let's travel north and make sure they realise exactly who they are dealing with."

"The Tricoloured Dragon," Gwaine proclaimed, grinning broadly, but Merlin felt his will falter at the words – thinking of Morgana. "What is it?"

"We'll tell you later," Arthur replied, putting his own hand on Merlin's shoulder and pushing him forward. "Let's go."

"Oh," Merlin said, suddenly stopping again. "The ravens. We need to send messages."

"Someone else can do that, surely," Arthur said.

"Not the one to Camelot, no. Unfortunately, only I can send that."

Merlin and Arthur rushed over to the raven master, leaving their friend in charge of the locals. As many of them had supported Gwaine's claim, even before Merlin's dramatic magical display, he was ideally placed to deal with the arrangements to start moving north and inform them of 'his' plan to ride on Castell Y Bere.

"There are only two birds here," Arthur observed as they approached the cages. "Where's the third?"

Merlin repeated that question to the raven master in Welsh only to receive a less than pleasant answer.

"_Your young lady sent one yesterday morning, my lord,"_ the man replied. _"I knew she was a natural. Handled the bird like she had been born to it. Even used magic to imprint its direction."_

"_Which was where?"_ Merlin asked, although he knew what the answer would be. Morgana could use any bird to send a message within Wales, and the only person she might want to contact here had already been close by.

"_I saw the message, my lord, but it was in English and so I did not understand it,"_ the man admitted. "_But the bird flew East, that much I am certain of."_

"_Did you see who she sent it to? Was it Geoffrey of Monmouth?"_

"_I don't believe so. An unusual name. It began with an A."_

"_Agravaine?" _Merlin suggested.

"What? What about my uncle?" Arthur interrupted having not understood the conversation up until that point.

"It seems that Morgana sent a raven to him," Merlin replied. "Why would she do that?"

The prince shrugged. "I have no idea."

"I wish I knew what it said. Well, we must send our own to Geoffrey." He nodded to the raven master and repeated the comment to him. "Mae'n rhaid I my yrru un I Loegr fy Hun."

"Oh," said Arthur as watched the large black bird hop onto Merlin's arm and observed him staring closely at it. "That's why those birds are special. You're using magic."

"Yes."

"And Morgana?"

Merlin released the raven and watched it fly to the East with the latest news about the attack and Balinor's injury. "She has magic too, it's true, but it also seems that she has sent birds before because …" He paused suddenly, blinking. "Oh, I'm an idiot!"

"As I keep saying," Arthur couldn't resist replying. "Why especially now?"

"You remember that day when I first arrived at Camelot and spotted a raven flying towards the castle?"

"Yes?"

"It was moving _directly_ towards the castle, which means that it was probably flying to Morgana."

"Who would have sent it?"

"Morgause, of course. She was probably telling the truth about having the birds in Powys when they were girls but, even though Uther had banned Morgana from contacting Morgause, her sister would have had no such restrictions."

"What are you saying, Merlin. That they've been in touch all these years?"

"It seems like it, yes." He nodded remembering all the times he'd caught Morgana at the window with parchment in her hand and feeling like a fool for not making the connection earlier. "You read her note?"

"Yes." Arthur frowned. "I had no idea she felt like that. I assumed she was happy in England. I didn't realise quite how desperate she was to be reunited with her sister."

"Glad I'm not the only one that missed the warning signs then," Merlin said with a large sigh. "Right, I'll just send one of the standard birds to Dinas Emrys with the news and take this last special raven with us – just in case we need to communicate with Camelot again."

"Will one bird be enough?"

"Hopefully, but they'll be others of this type at Castell Y Bere we can use. It won't be a problem. We'll be able to stay in touch."

~o~0~o~


	14. The Red Herring

**Chapter 14: The Red Herring**

Moving north felt especially unnatural to Merlin. Having Arthur by his side helped a little, but he was leaving his father behind with Gaius and Gwen and also pulling further and further away from Morgana in the process. It felt as if he were a raven himself, having his feathers plucked out one by one; leaving him feeling sore, naked and vulnerable.

He didn't think he would have been able to have carried this through if it hadn't been for Arthur and Gwaine. The two young men stayed close by his side constantly, not once directly mentioning Balinor or Morgana – watching him closely – but otherwise carrying on as normal, with just a few more reassuring hands on shoulders than the pair would typically give. They understood, as he did, that now was not the time for grief or rage; Merlin's attack on Powys had given them this one opportunity to hold the whole of North Wales for Gwynedd, something that there was no record of anyone having achieved before in the country's long and bloody history.

"Why did you not tell me?"

Only once they'd made camp a little distance from Castell Y Bere, did Arthur ask the question that had obviously been on his mind since Merlin had burnt and flattened most of Cenred's army, and the young sorcerer knew instantly what his friend was talking about.

"We knew how Uther felt about magic and assumed that you'd be the same," he explained quietly. "My father guessed that we were part of The Dragon and wanted us to get along. He worried that you knowing the truth might hinder our friendship."

"Sorry."

Merlin shrugged, realising without knowing how, that Arthur was apologising for asking a question which had inevitably required mention of his father. "And I'm sorry I kept it from you but, as I said, we thought it for the best."

"Well, I knew that most, if not all, Welsh practised the religion but I suppose I didn't fully understand what you could do. I mean … that really was magic, wasn't it?"

Merlin turned to him with an amused smile. "What were you expecting?"

"Tricks, illusions …" He shrugged. "Strange practises involving odd drugs like the ones that were in that drink of mine at Carndochan."

"That's just herb law, the knowledge of which is basic enough. Most of your peasants in England will know how to brew potions that can ease pain, cause hallucinations and dull the inhibitions, it's common enough."

"Father doesn't allow such medicine to be practising in Camelot."

"What?" Merlin turned to Arthur, shocked. "That doesn't make any sense. How does Gaius treat his patients? All medicines are part of herb law and all herb law can be used or abused just as any other power can."

"I suppose I hadn't really thought of it like that," Arthur replied, frowning.

"The only difference is that, here in Wales, we understand the true connection between ourselves and the world we inhabit. We are part of the earth itself. The problem with looking skywards to find the answers to your questions is that you're too far away to hear or fully understand the answers.

"We are born of the earth and so it's to the earth we pray," Merlin continued. "Most Druids are taught the skills that will enable them to control the elements around them, but not all have the ability to make a great deal of difference – just as not everyone has the ability to wield a sword. Like all arts, some are more naturally talented than others and some are prepared to work harder than others. Sometime, occasionally, you get people like us."

"Us?" Arthur asked.

"We heard of your skills with a sword long before Leon praised you," Merlin answered with a soft smile. "Then you beat the best of our Welsh warriors too. Do you believe that's because you've trained longer or harder than any of them?"

"No, I suppose not."

"You are the Gold Dragon – pure Gold. The most proficient warrior. I am pure Red – the most proficient sorcerer." There was an uncomfortable pause. "Morgana didn't even know what her tasks were and has had no training at all since she's been in England. Yet she beat Morgause and the others anyway, due to her knowledge of the future through her prophetic dreams. Pure White."

"You don't have to talk about her if you don't want to."

"It makes no sense to avoid the subject." He gave a humourless laugh. "And it will be pretty difficult to move forward from this point _without_ talking about her, but I thank you and Gwaine for giving me that luxury during today's march, at least."

"Talking of the march. We have a job to do tomorrow and so it's probably best that we get some sleep now."

Merlin sighed loudly. "I can certainly try."

~o~0~o~

At first light, Merlin sent a message into the barricaded castle and requested a meeting to discuss the occupants' surrender. The reply came back from a man calling himself Lord Bayard ap Rhodry of Meirionnydd who, Gwaine informed him, had been Lot's first lord and most trusted friend. Merlin, Arthur and Gwaine walked forward on their own to meet the man only to be confronted by a party of ten, fully armed soldiers, deliberately sent to outnumber them.

"Rude," Gwaine commented blandly and Merlin desperately tried to keep a straight face, amused by his friend's comment, despite the seriousness of the situation.

"I told you leaving our weapons behind was a bad idea," Arthur complained.

"You _are_ joking," Gwaine countered.

"What?"

"You're walking right next to the most powerful weapon in the whole of Wales," he replied.

Arthur turned to Merlin and blinked before realising what it was Gwaine was implying. "Oh," he said quietly as they walked the final few steps towards the waiting party. "Do _they_ know that?"

"_Who are you to demand an audience with the first lord of Meirionnydd?"_ Bayard asked in Welsh as his gaze fell on each of the three in turn, obviously sizing each one up.

"_I am Merlin ap Balinor of Gwynedd, as I stated in my message,"_ the young warlock replied with a smile.

"_I recognise your claim to Meirionnydd even less than I recognise Lord Gwaine's. By what right do you demand our surrender?"_

"_You would see my half-brother as your prince instead, Lord Bayard?" _Gwaine asked. _"A ten year old boy?"_

"_His magic and his blood claim his right," _another man in the party commented.

"_And Gwaine's blood and my magic claim mine,"_ Merlin retorted. _"Mordred is not the Red and he is not part of the Tricoloured Dragon. I am though, and have come to claim Meirionnydd in the name of peace and prosperity for all of Wales."_

"_You are no Dragon,"_ the man scoffed. _"You are as much of a boy as Mordred, and that Balinor sends you in his stead is an insult to our honour. We would continue to hold this castle in the name of Prince Mordred."_

"_Mordred is defeated and has run away to Powys,"_ Gwaine informed him. _"There he consorts with Prince Cenred with whom Morgause allied herself secretly behind Prince Lot's back."_

"_You lie about that and his defeat. There is none here with the power to beat Morgause." _

Merlin stepped forward with the same grim smile he had recently turned on Arthur, before raising one hand towards Bayard and tipping his head curiously. The man swallowed hard and his face paled. As one, the group of Meirionnydd soldiers all took a firm step backwards.

"_Care to test that assertion?"_ Merlin asked quietly.

~o~0~o~

"I hate doing this," Merlin grumbled as they walked into the castle, their ragtag army at their back.

"Doing what?" Arthur asked.

"Walking in and taking over someone's home like this."

"Hey, it's _my_ home, remember, and I've invited you," Gwaine said with his usual bright grin.

"Yes, yes. I know. Still, I hate it when they look at me so fearfully."

"All in the name of ultimate peace and prosperity though, right, Merlin?" Arthur asked.

"If I didn't agree, I wouldn't be here, would I?" His voice took on a slightly sulky tone, especially as he was more than aware of the amused looks Gwaine and Arthur were exchanging on either side of him. Despite his very great power, warfare had never been something that Merlin had felt especially well equipped to deal with.

They held a council meeting immediately; Merlin and Gwaine both involved whilst Arthur stood nearby, receiving an English translation from one of the soldiers that had journeyed with them from the south.

It soon became obvious that there were many within Meirionnydd that had not approved of Morgause and were more than aware that she had come here from Powys, twisted Prince Lot around her little finger, and then insisted that his second child gained automatic right to the throne years before he was old enough to prove himself.

"_Not all agreed with that, it's true,"_ Bayard said. _"In normal circumstances a son needs to show he's strong enough to take over his father's throne."_

"_When I offered that same suggestion, there were few here who agreed with me,"_ Gwaine reminded them.

"_Lot was still our Prince and we were loyal to him first and foremost and, in this case, the circumstances surrounding Mordred are not normal."_

"_But, he is not here and we are," _Gwaine said.

"_It is true that you have blood and conquest rights. However..."_ The man again glared at Merlin. _"I still consider it an offence that the great Prince of Gwynedd sends his _child_ to oversee this. Magic you may have, boy, but how does that situation make you any different from Mordred?"_

"_Prince Balinor was injured in the battle with Cenred,"_ Merlin responded, his hand gripping the edge of the table viciously as he spoke. _"The physician does not hold out __hope of his recovery."_

Bayard frowned._ "That I _am_ sorry to hear. Gwynedd has long been our enemy but your father's reputation as a brilliant tactician and a fair man is common knowledge."_

Merlin simply nodded, not trusting himself to respond.

"_Prince Balinor named Merlin as his successor,"_ Gwaine continued. _"As we have said in regard to this throne, that in itself is not enough, but Merlin's easy defeat of Cenred's army at the southern camp _should_ be sufficient to prove that he is more than he seems."_

Bayard looked up then, his eyes searching for trusted soldiers that he knew to have been at the Druid camp. When he found one and raised a questioning eyebrow, the soldier nodded, his eyes wide.

"_He held his hands up and smote them, my lord. Almost all of the army flamed and flattened. I can attest that the boy does indeed have great power."_

Merlin sighed loudly. _"I have lived through twenty-five summers, my lords. You may not yet feel you can trust me as your liege Prince but _please_ could you at least do me the courtesy of acknowledging my adulthood."_

Bayard nodded, a slight smile appearing around his lips. _"I apologise for my previous comments, my lord. Now you are this close to me, I can see that your cheeks have indeed seen the edge of a razor blade from time to time."_

Merlin tipped his head, not at all certain whether he was being teased or insulted. Suddenly the large man burst out laughing and the others in the Hall quickly followed, Gwaine and Merlin smiling wryly in response.

"_What are your terms, Prince Merlin,"_ Bayard continued after the laughter had died down. _"I believe it may be possible to find some common ground here, after all."_

~o~0~o~

From then on, news started to arrive thick and fast, although none of it was good. First Merlin received word of Balinor's death, brought in person by Gwen and Gaius. His body had been taken back to Gwynedd, and there was nothing that Merlin wanted more than to ride north to be with his mother and ensure that all was well at Dinas Emrys.

However, just as he was working on a way to justify this, trying to ensure that Gwaine's tenure here was now secure, they received yet more news, this time from the south.

"_It's Cenred,"_ Bayard announced in Welsh as he walked into the small Hall where Merlin was sitting with his friends. _"He's moving."_

"Where is Cenred moving to?" Merlin responded in English, nodding towards Arthur as silent instruction to Bayard to switch languages.

"He travelled south, making all sorts of mad claims, and has apparently persuaded most of the southern kingdoms to come over to him."

"Why would they do that?" Gwen asked.

"That I can't say, but he's offering them something, that's for certain. If he were to gain all of them..."

"He wouldn't be able to." Merlin shook his head. "There's too much bad blood between them."

"Morgause can be very... persuasive," Gwaine suggested.

"No she … Oh!" Merlin's eyes widened as he realised something. "_That's_ why she didn't attack. That's why she didn't use magic against me."

"Why?" Arthur asked.

"Because she believes in the prophecy. She may not have liked the outcome of it, but she is a dedicated practitioner and must have felt that it would be a bad move to try and fight us."

"But Cenred..."

"I don't believe ever hearing that he was especially religious. Perhaps he's trying to do this by himself."

"The south still hold the Druidic faith for the most part," Gwen pointed out. "I find it hard to believe they would go against the north once they learn that The Dragon is here."

"England? Perhaps they're going to attack the east," Arthur suggested.

"They'd never win _that_ war," Bayard scoffed.

"No, they'd not conquer the country, it's true," Arthur agreed, "But perhaps Cenred's taking the opportunity to grab some of The Marches back for himself whilst we're distracted up here."

"That's definitely a goal he could unite the Welsh kingdoms on," Merlin agreed. "Especially now they know that _you're_ part of the equation." He turned to Arthur who shrugged. "Actually yes, that makes perfect sense. As I said before, not everyone will like the idea of the Gold Dragon being an Englishman."

"I admit that I don't much care for the idea myself," Bayard replied before suddenly catching himself. "Ah, no offence to you personally, Arthur, of course."

"None taken," he replied with a wry smile.

"So, what now?" Gwaine asked.

"Better send a special raven to Camelot then," Gwen suggested. "Make sure they're forewarned."

"What about you, Merlin?" Gwaine asked. "Do you still feel the need to go north to Dinas Emrys? I'd hardly blame you if you did."

"Well, I suppose..."

There was a sudden crash as the door burst open, causing everyone to turn as one towards the sound. _"My lords..."_ The young guard got no further before he suddenly had to duck to avoid a black blur that streaked across the room, missing his head by inches, before landing firmly on the table in front of Merlin.

"What the …?" Arthur exclaimed.

Merlin looked down at the large, black raven standing in front of him, tipping its head slightly and blinking. "Qua?" it croaked, lifting a leg to reveal a small scroll of paper neatly attached. "Neges."

"Did it just … speak?" Arthur gasped.

"Yes, they naturally good mimics anyway and these ones can say 'message' and a few other basic words." Merlin quickly took it off the bird. "Thanks," he said automatically.

"Croeso," the raven replied. Gwen giggled.

"Who's it from?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin winced. "Ruadan at Penllyn. He forwarded this raven on from England."

"Well?"

"I am _so_ sorry, Arthur but I'm afraid it's more bad news."

"Father?" he asked, his voice breathy.

"Yes, I'm afraid … I'm sorry but... King Uther has died."

"No..."

Gwen hastily got up and moved towards her husband, kneeling next to him and placing one hand over his.

"How?" Gaius pushed. "What did he die of? He was fine when we left."

"This note is necessarily short, I'm afraid, but Ruadan has added one extra word to the end. Hud."

"Hud?" Arthur asked.

"Magic."

~o~0~o~


	15. Gold Revenge

_**A/N:** So, a few of you commented on last chapter's cliff hanger. Ah, sorry, but that one was just a little ledge! :P_

* * *

**Chapter 15: Gold Revenge**

"Magic? Who could have used magic on Uther and why?" Gwen asked.

"It has to have been Morgause," Arthur snarled. "Who else would have that sort of power?"

"Over that distance, not a chance," Merlin disagreed. "And anyway, I told you, she believes in the Prophecy."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Merlin's right, Arthur," Gaius agreed. "Uther's death means that you're now king, whilst Cenred's recent attack caused Merlin to become prince of the whole of North Wales. Morgause will not have wanted this to happen yet as it means the Tricoloured Dragon Prophecy will come to pass that much sooner."

"King..." Arthur ran his hands through his hair, the full truth of that part of the situation obviously only just having struck him. "And I'm stuck all the way over here."

"Yes, we were misdirected there," Gwaine growled. "By letting Cenred retreat, we gave him a chance to claim allies in the south and now, if he's attacking England when there's no leader in Camelot..."

"They must know that that won't make any difference in the long run," Merlin commented with a frown. "Ravens have been sent to Camelot and to the border towns in the south of England and troops will be marching by first light tomorrow; west from England and north from Gwynedd. Now forewarned there's little chance that Cenred could win, even _with_ all these new allies."

"So?"

"Perhaps he hoped to catch us unawares, or assumed that we'd not be too concerned about the southern Marches at this point?" Gwen suggested.

"But, Uther's death..." Gwaine said.

"Does him no favours either," Arthur interrupted, suddenly understanding. "Now he's just made me as angry as he's made Merlin. Now we are both out to get him when previously it was really only a Welsh matter and he simply thought to gain some extra land before the north could get himself organised."

"Are we sure Uther's death isn't just a co-incidence?" Gwen asked. "Perhaps some left-over effect from Kilgharrah's magic or perhaps a misdiagnosis from Geoffrey?"

"It's possible, certainly," Merlin conceded. "Hopefully, we'll learn more when the land messenger arrives but, for now, we need to prepare to march south and dispose of this Cenred once and for all."

"You really don't believe Morgause has anything to do with this?" Arthur asked.

"Not directly. She may be offering her support in regard to the south – using her magic to scout or defend, but still, I don't imagine she's very happy about the way Cenred has dealt with this conflict."

"What about Morgana?" Gwen asked gently. "I'm sorry to bring it up, Merlin but, what's her part in all of this, do you think?"

"I don't know," he replied sadly. "I'd like to think that she really did just want to be with her sister and got caught up with all of this against her will but..."

"That _is_ possible?" she pushed.

"Yes but, there's something else going on here, something I'm missing. She told me, or hinted at something before all of this happened but I can't seem to grasp the memory right now. In addition there were all those raven messages; the ones she received from Morgause whilst she was in England, and this recent one she sent to Agravaine."

"What about your uncle, Arthur? Didn't you leave him in charge of Camelot?" Gaius asked.

"Yes, and the idea that Morgana was communicating secretly with both him and Morgause is worrying me," Arthur admitted. "If he is part of some obscure plot back home, then it's possible we'll get no support from there as far as this conflict is concerned. We've sent a raven to Geoffrey telling him everything we know so far and, hopefully, either Ruadan was mistaken, or things are not quite as bad as we're imagining. Either way, as Merlin said, I'm sure we'll start getting more detailed news very soon."

~o~0~o~

The next morning saw them all up before dawn and readying a small army for the march south. Leon and Percival had already been sent on fast horses with instructions to travel to the various English garrisons currently on the border; both the ones that Uther had originally sent to defend the land east of Gwynedd, plus others that were permanently, historically stationed on the western border of England in case of trouble.

Ravens had been sent the previous day to forewarn those English forts, as well as to gain support from the castles of Dinas Emrys, Carndochan, Dinas Brân and Dolbadarn within Wales. Birds had also been dispatched to a number of other more minor forts and large towns in various areas of the north, especially further south on the border of Powys from where they would begin their counter attack.

The magically trained ravens that had been sent out would be able to find Merlin wherever he was and so, as they marched, it became common to see a black dot heading their way and hear the familiar call of "Neges, neges," as a raven flew straight towards the young prince, often giving him little warning before he needed to raise his arm.

"That's the last of my northern lords," Merlin said later as yet another bird arrived. "They'll take a bit longer to reach our rendezvous, obviously, so we'll have to wait on the southern Penllyn border for them to catch up. A nuisance, I know, but I doubt a day or two will make much difference."

Later that day the bird from Camelot caught up with them, a far larger scroll than usual attached to his leg. Merlin was convinced that the raven seemed cross as he stuck his leg up, uttering a strange, grumble of a sound which was entirely unfamiliar to the young man.

"Sorry," he said automatically, "but, it looks like we've got important news."

"Qua." The raven rustled his feathers in something resembling a shrug as Merlin attempted to unfold the scroll of paper, whilst the large bird continued to grip hold of his arm.

"You can go if you're that upset." The raven tipped his head and made a softer sound in response, pointedly refusing to move and digging in his claws firmly into Merlin's sleeve. "Fine, you're making it awkward for me deliberately, I understand."

"Well?" the young king asked him.

"Geoffrey made sure our message got to the people you specified, Arthur, but confirms that Agravaine has announced himself as Regent in your absence and so he was reluctant to push much more than that at the moment."

"I'm not sure Camelot can be much help anyway," he replied. "Too far away."

"No, and hopefully it won't be necessary, not if all your English troops near the border answer your call."

"Any more news regarding Uther's death?" Gaius asked.

"Something about a necklace found around the king's neck." Merlin replied frowning. "Obviously this note is still necessarily short, but I believe I've heard of such negative conduits before."

"Yes," Gaius confirmed. "But such things are extremely rare, especially in England. I hope Geoffrey was able to keep it safe so I can investigate more fully when we return to Camelot."

~o~0~o~

The battle lines were drawn.

Arthur and Merlin stood shoulder to shoulder on a small rise, front and centre of their moderately sized army. To the east stood their English forces; half as large again and especially well equipped. Cenred's army was far larger, but was at a tactical disadvantage, pinned in on two sides by The Dragon's forces and on the west by a mountain range. Under normal circumstances it would be a very even and probably prolonged fight, but Merlin was confident that his presence would make this battle anything but normal or prolonged.

A familiar horn sounded and Cenred's army advanced, opening up like a fan and heading inexorably towards both front lines.

"Let's show that bastard exactly what he's dealing with, Merlin," Arthur snarled.

"A pleasure," the young prince replied, holding up an arm and smiling grimly.

"But try to avoid hitting Cenred if you can," Arthur interrupted, resting his hand on his friend's raised arm. "That one is mine!"

"If you insist … Aah!"

The young sorcerer was surprised to find himself on the floor, with Arthur leaning over him, starting to haul him to his feet and looking confused. "Fall over your feet again, Merlin? Not the best of timing."

"No, no... that's not it."

A cry from behind dragged Arthur's attention away from his friend and he looked northwards. "What's happening back there?"

"Magic," Merlin explained. "Someone's using powerful magic."

"What?"

"I think it's Morgause. She's attacking our army from behind!"

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go and sort her out. The rest of us will face Cenred the conventional way."

"Yes, but..."

"Go!"

"Symwch!" Merlin pushed his way through the army, shouting desperately at the soldiers to make them get out of his way. He pushed a wave of defensive magic out before him at the same time – a shield – determined to protect as many of his rear guard from the sorceress as possible. He wasn't sure exactly how many he would face when he got there but, in the end, it was just Morgause he encountered, standing on a small rise of her own, blonde hair blowing in the breeze, her hand raised – like some sort of vengeful goddess.

When she saw Merlin she laughed brightly and struck again, but this time the young man was ready for her, holding his shield to protect his army whilst simultaneously attacking with a second burst of magic. There was a cheer from behind him and Merlin sensed rather than saw the soldiers resume their move forward, now following Arthur into battle against Cenred, whilst their own prince dealt with the Powys sorceress.

A second attack from Merlin saw Morgause quite obviously reel, her power no match for his and he smiled darkly, moving closer to her position, one arm raised; readying himself for a final blow.

"_You would attack the Dragon, Morgause?"_ he asked in Welsh. _"After all your years of following Druidic law? I thought you, of all people, would have more sense than that."_

"_Cenred's a fool to go against the prophecy, it's true,"_ she replied with a bright laugh, _"But, he has his uses and I admit that I haven't finished with him quite yet."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Oh, I have plans for the Prince of Powys, never you mind but, for today, it suits me to be here."_

"_So you're doing your bit to help him, even knowing you can't possibly win against me?"_

Her smile was sly and surprisingly seductive, and Merlin was suddenly very aware of her relationship to his wife, despite their different colouring; something which made him feel especially uncomfortable.

"_Your magic is strong, Merlin, it's true, but there is more than one way to win a battle and more than one battle left to win."_

"_What do you mean by that?"_

"_I have won the battle for Morgana's heart, for a start,"_ she answered with a smirk.

He steeled himself for what was to come, trying not to let his emotions show. _"Our marriage was arranged as most are. I don't think why you'd consider that to be an issue for me."_

"_Oh come on now, Merlin, Morgana has told me everything. How she played you for a fool and made you fall in love with her. Oh, how we laughed about that."_

He glared at her. _"You're lying, Morgause. Morgana may have had her ulterior motives – been prepared to do anything in order to return to her old family – but you'll never convince me that her whole marriage to me was a charade."_

"_Oh, it's certainly true that she was prepared to do anything to right the wrongs our family suffered."_ She smiled. _"And I mean … anything."_ The last word was so heavily weighted that Merlin was quite unable to resist the bait.

"_Such as?"_

"_Such as going against my advice and following through with her years' old plan to kill Uther."_

Merlin felt as if his heart had just hit the floor. _"No … I won't believe that."_

"_Really? Are you sure you're that surprised? Of course, I tried to tell her that it wouldn't help in the long run – that killing him would simply bring the Prophecy forward but then, I suppose, that was the whole point, wasn't it?"_

"_What was?"_

"_Her role as the White Dragon. Her contribution to the Prophecy. To be Uther's murderer. I'm sure you're aware that one aspect of the White is death."_

"_No, it couldn't be that, and anyway … she was here when Uther died."_

"_Well, not by her own hand then, but it amounts to much the same thing."_

"_Agravaine?"_ Merlin shook his head. Deep down he hadn't believed Morgause when she implied that Morgana had no feelings for him, so why should he trust her about this? However, in many ways, this part of her tale _did_ make sense. Putting all the pieces together – the things Morgana had said – the things she'd hinted at. Then he suddenly remembered what his wife's note had said.

'Uther thwarted me at every turn and will pay for that very soon.'

"_No..."_ The word was no more than a soft breath.

"_As I said, it didn't exactly help our cause either but still, here we are." _Morgause smiled again. _ "Yes, you may just be able to beat me, Merlin but, at what cost? You may be the Red Dragon and part of this great Prophecy, but what personal prices will you continue to have to pay along the way? You've lost your wife and your father both. Who will be next, do you think?"_

"_And yet, Morgana still _is_ my wife,"_ Merlin replied, suddenly loosing patience. _"So, when we defeat you, I can claim Powys through her blood anyway."_

"_Ooh, how interesting,"_ Morgause smirked, looking him up and down as if he was some sort of curious creature she'd never seen before. _"I do believe Morgana underestimated you as much as you misunderstood her. Not that I can blame her – you certainly don't look the ruthless or vengeful type but … I suppose you must be the Red for a reason."_

"_Where is she?"_ As Merlin asked the question, he pushed out his senses - his Dragon senses as he now thought of them – in order to discover Morgana's location. To his surprise he felt the pull from behind and, at the same time, sensed Arthur briefly too. Panic suddenly hit him. The pair were close to one another. _Very_ close.

"_Well now, that would be telling, wouldn't it?" _Morgause was replying. _"Perhaps I was lying and you were right all along. Perhaps Morgana's hopelessly in love with you, and Cenred and I kidnapped her against her will."_

"_Idiot!"_ Merlin shouted and Morgause frowned at the sudden aggression in his voice but, of course, he wasn't talking about her. He'd just realised what she'd been doing all this time. _"You've been distracting me, pulling my attention away from Arthur."_ Her annoyed look confirmed his guess and only increased his fear and so he threw one arm out in front, blasting Morgause back with every bit of power he had before turning – running back south, pushing out his senses, hunting for the young king.

~o~0~o~

Time seemed to slow as Merlin approached the scene; Mordred stood next to Arthur, his hands raised towards him but not touching – the king stood frozen, apparently held by the boy's spell whilst Cenred approached the Englishman's position laughing, lifting his sword for the death strike.

Merlin was too far away, his magic useless. He could try and flatten the whole army to get to Arthur as he had before, but Mordred's spell would complicate matters, and would be likely to act as a shield.

Then he saw her, moving forward from the other side, much closer to Arthur than Merlin was. She was using magic to blast any attacks away and Merlin fought with a brief sense of pride at her skill, despite his mounting panic.

"Morgana!" He called her name as a thought as well as out loud and she looked up and noticed him, pausing slightly. Then with a shake of her head she continued her march forwards – one hand outstretched towards the king. "No! Arthur!"

~o~0~o~

* * *

_**A/N:** See what I mean! :)_


	16. Tricoloured Dragon

**Chapter 16: The Tricoloured Dragon**

Merlin ran faster than he ever had before, throwing his magic out left and right, desperately trying to reach his friend. However, when he arrived, he paused – surprised at what he saw.

"Arthur?"

The young king blinked, looking around confused. Cenred and Mordred now lay on the floor not far from him, whilst Morgana stood like a statue – apparently not having moved since Merlin had last seen her – her hand still held out, her eyes full of confusion.

Arthur's expression was a strange mixture of anger and surprise as he turned to face the young woman he viewed as a sister. "You saved me."

Merlin turned, opened mouthed to his wife who still seemed shocked at what she had done, but then her expression started to change, the fierce look fading into something far more childlike and vulnerable. She nodded dumbly.

"Why?" Merlin asked.

"I just wanted to see my sister again. All I ever wanted was to go home." Her eyes started to fill with tears. "But I didn't want you dead. Either of you." Her eyes fell on the boy and her face paled. "Nor Mordred."

She moved quickly forward and placed her hands on the child, checking him over, before sitting back on her heels with a large sigh of relief.

"He's alive?" Merlin asked.

She nodded, pulling Mordred into a hug as he started to stir, moaning softly. "What about Cenred?" she asked, her voice taking on a sudden steely tone.

Merlin moved to check. "He's dead. It looks like he was unfortunate enough to hit his head on a rock."

"Good!" Merlin look up, shocked at the anger in her voice. "I don't know how Morgause could stand to be near him, I really don't," she continued. "He was part of his father's army when Caradog took Powys from our family. No matter how young he was then, he deserved to die for his part in my father and sister's deaths."

"Revenge, Morgana?" Arthur asked incredulously. "That is what all of this has been about?"

"Not all of it. Mostly I just wanted to come home and be with my sister, as I said."

She looked around then, obviously searching for Morgause, and Merlin winced as he remembered just how much force he had thrown at the sorceress when he'd been far too scared for Arthur to be thinking straight. He wondered if she could have possibly survived his attack.

He moved over towards Mordred then, keen to check on the boy for himself and put off the inevitable issue of what had happened to Morgause. Morgana looked up as he approached, her eyes widening slightly as she realised he was now at her eye level.

"Merlin, I'm really sorry. You have to believe me when I say..."

"Later," he interrupted briskly, standing up and surveying the scene. "Right now I need to end this, once and for all."

The fighting was still intense and so, using a more advanced version of the spell Morgana had recently employed, Merlin pushed hard on all sides. Like his original fire spell at the Druid camp, this one was specific, focusing on the blue that Cenred's army wore and pushing only at those men – leaving them vulnerable to the northern attack.

Arthur had come fully to his senses now and was making his own analysis of the situation. Without exchanging a word, the two men moved in different direction, shouting orders, pulling their troops together, organising one last attack against the confused enemy.

With their prince dead and their sorceress defeated, Powys was soon overcome and the battle was quickly concluded. Within a week of taking over Castell Y Bere, the Red and Gold dragon were marching on Castell Caereinion – this time with the White by their side.

The conversation was much the same as before too. "By right of conquest and by right of blood." This time because Merlin was married to Princess Morgana; cousin of Cenred, daughter of Gorlois.

It may not have happened exactly the way Merlin had expected but, nonetheless, the Tricoloured Dragon took control of Powys with little resistance and thus moved one step closer to uniting the whole of Wales.

~o~0~o~

As it turned out, there were far fewer objections to Merlin's takeover at this castle than there had been at Castell Y Bere, as many of the servants and lesser lords from Gorlois' time were still here; having quickly decided that the best way to ensure their survival during Caradog's takeover twelve years ago was to swear fealty. That meant that there were a number of people living at Castell Caereinion that not only remembered Morgana from when she was a child, but welcomed her with open arms. Despite everything that had happened recently, Merlin decided to simply count his blessings in this case and be grateful that he was going to be accepted so easily – even if was mostly due to him being their returning daughter's husband.

Merlin had naively hoped he could avoid the inevitable conversation about Uther's death but, of course, that was never likely to happen. Arthur was keen to get back to Camelot as soon as possible but felt unable to leave until he had all the facts, and so, shortly after securing the castle, the two young couples met with Gaius and Gwaine in Merlin's chambers, to ensure they had all the information before going their separate ways.

"Why did you send a raven to Camelot?" Arthur asked Morgana the instant she stepped into the room.

"I-I'm sorry..." she started, tears in her eyes. "I felt I had no choice."

"About what?" Arthur's voice was quiet, but his gaze was steely and determined and Merlin could tell that he was barely holding his anger in check.

"This wasn't just about me," Morgana continued. "It wasn't just because Uther refused to let me even contact my family when I was growing up – it was far bigger than that. It was about his total blindness in regards to magic and what that meant to the people of both our countries. I watched whilst he executed all of those English citizens because of imagined evil acts they'd been involved in and knew that he wished to inflict the same rule upon Wales. That's why the talks with my father failed and that's why Caradog managed to garner so much support to overthrow him. If Uther had not been so stubborn then it's likely my father would still be alive." She shook her head, fighting tears.

"What did you do?" Arthur asked, but Morgana ignored the question.

"The same would have happened this time around, trust me," she continued, unable to look any of them in the eye. "Uther would have delayed and made excuses, and the treaty would have failed because he would never accept magic, and the Welsh would never abandon it. I could not let that happen."

"What- did- you- do?" Arthur repeated, his voice all the more terrifying for being so quiet and measured.

"Perhaps we could talk about this later?" Merlin suggested.

"There _is_ no later," Arthur snapped, suddenly letting his anger surface. "I'm going back to England tomorrow and I need to know exactly what happened." He turned back to Morgana. "What message did you sent to Agravaine?"

"To kill Uther as we'd pre-arranged. To wait until I was back home in Wales and wait for my note."

Arthur gasped, tears in his eyes. "I don't understand. Why would he do such a thing?"

"He blamed you for your mother's death just as much as he blamed Uther."

"But..."

"Yes, I know she died in childbirth and it wasn't your fault, but that's how he has always felt. He was also at Powys during the takeover and made friends there – accepted their faith and their magic. That most of them died during the attack too... well … Agravaine blamed Uther for that, as I did. We talked of such things often."

"But … he's my uncle." Arthur's anger was temporarily replaced by confusion and hurt. "How could he betray me like that? How could you?"

"I did what I felt I had to," Morgana replied, lifting her chin proudly.

"_You_ put that mandrake root under Uther's bed, didn't you?" Merlin said, suddenly understanding. "Not Kilgharrah."

"Yes."

"How did you know about such things?"

"From Morgause. She kept telling me that it was not a good idea to kill Uther, but she was happy enough for him to be unhinged."

"A weak English king would be very helpful to her cause, it's true," Gwen commented. "Even if his death wouldn't have been."

"But, you overruled her about that in the end?" Merlin said.

"There was no time to wait, as she so often suggested," Morgana replied. "No point in delaying."

"You're a traitor!" Arthur shouted, standing up and leaning towards her. Gwen moved quickly to her husband's side and placed a hand on his arm. Merlin stood also, readying his magic in case it was needed. "You killed the king. You killed my father!"

"She also saved your life during that battle," Merlin reminded him, "and made this war very much shorter as a result."

Arthur turned on him, furious now. "You're siding with her?"

"No, of course not. I'm not saying it was right – any of it but, we have to move on... somehow."

"Well, good luck with that, Merlin," Arthur snarled, heading toward the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make preparations for our journey back to England tomorrow."

The warlock moved forward, attempting to stop him. "Arthur, if we could just..."

The king spun around but ignored Merlin, focusing instead on the young woman he'd grown up with. "I loved you like a sister, Morgana, but I don't think I can _ever_ forgive you for this." Then he turned and marched out of the door with Gwen following closely behind.

"What about you, Merlin?" Morgana asked quietly once they'd left. "Will _you_ be able to forgive me?"

"Perhaps," he replied. "One day but … not quite yet."

She nodded. "I understand."

"I need to keep you close by me though. The people here seem to have taken to you easily, but will not accept me as anything other than your husband."

She nodded sadly. "I am Gorlois' only surviving child now. Morgause is dead."

"Ah, I did wonder."

"They told me just before I came here. They discovered her body quite a bit north of here." Her voice broke. "I'd only just found her again."

"I'm sorry."

She just nodded. "Mordred is all the blood family I have left now and I really want him to stay with me – with us. If you'll allow it?"

"That's actually not a bad idea," Merlin replied. "I could help with his magic education and help him control it. That boy has rather too much power for his own good."

"You could teach us both?" Her voice was quiet and hopeful.

"Perhaps."

There was another very long silence. "I really am very sorry."

He sighed. "I'll have to keep a guard on both of you at all times, you understand?"

"Yes. Of course."

"And we can't stay here for long. I need to get back to Dinas Emrys and you'll need to come back there with me as my wife."

"I understand but … we will return here at some point?"

"Yes, we'll have to. In fact, we'll be on the road a lot, I imagine, moving between castles." He shook his head. "I rule over a huge amount of land now and it's going to be an enormous challenge to retain control of it all."

"But you will. With all of your power." She sounded proud as she said it but, at that moment, Merlin could feel nothing but sadness and frustration.

"I'll escort you back to your chambers now," he said.

"My prison?" she asked with a hint of complaint in her voice.

He sighed. "It has a feather bed and all the luxuries you could wish for but, you can call it that if it makes you feel better."

She glared at him for the comment but he simply turned his back on her and walked away. He was definitely _not_ in the mood to start one of their sparring matches now, especially seeing there would not be the usual consolation at the end of it.

~o~0~o~

Merlin got up early the next morning and hurried down to the stables in order to say a proper goodbye to those travelling back to Camelot. Gwen immediately ran up and threw her arms around him and he held her close, whilst Arthur threw him a glance which was obviously supposed to imply jealousy, although Merlin didn't think for a moment he was serious.

"I've only just realised how much I'm going to miss you," Gwen mumbled into his neck. "I've seen you almost every day since I very first arrived in Dinas Emrys. It's going to be so odd not having you around."

"I feel the same way, Gwen, but I suppose this was always the way it was going to be." He looked over towards Arthur. "Do you think there'll be any problems about her being accepted as your queen?"

"Many of my lords will grumble, I've no doubt," Arthur said with a wry smile. "And I'm sure there'll be a lot of work involved in placating those families that had expected me to consider their daughters but, well..." He shrugged. "I couldn't contemplate marrying anyone else now and, Guinevere will make a great queen." He smiled at his wife's sceptical look. "I'm aware that you don't agree with that, but I know better."

"As do I," Merlin answered with a smile. "You two are destined to be together and are happy and that's all that matters."

"And you? What happens now between you and Morgana?" Gwen asked.

"I need to talk to her," he replied. "_Really_ talk to her. The fact she saved Arthur's life, the fact she says she wants to come back to me, makes me hope that perhaps we can move on from this but … I have to put Wales first. I have to do what is right for my country."

"Yes and I suppose, at the moment, being married to her helps with all of that?" Gwen suggested.

"Yes, I would have had a far harder job taking over Powys without her. Well, almost impossible, I'd say."

"Well, I admit that I don't envy you, Merlin," Arthur said. "To have to stay with her, knowing what she's done."

"Perhaps but, as you said, she's important to the future peace of Wales. Her role in this was destined just as much as ours was, but you're right that it's not going to be easy." He sighed. "I can hardly stick her in a dungeon, but equally, I find it hard to know how I can really trust her again."

"And you're not the only one who has some uncomfortable decisions to make," Arthur said. "I need to work out what to do about Agravaine when I get home. Assuming Morgana hasn't contacted him before now and told him to run."

"Definitely not since the battle," Merlin confirmed. "She's been under guard the whole time since then and I've told all the raven masters that she's not to have access to any birds until I say so."

"Good. In which case, will you send these messages to Geoffrey for me?" Arthur handed him a number of small scrolls, wrapped up in the usual way to be easily attached to a raven. "I want to make sure that those there that are loyal to me will keep an eye on my uncle and feed him some false information about my return. Hopefully he'll not hear about what happened until I get home and then..." He winced. "Then I'll be able to deal with him … somehow."

"Of course," Merlin replied. "Talking of which, I was thinking how important it is that we stay in touch from now on. I mean, it would be nice if we could meet up from time to time and..."

"From time to time?" Arthur interrupted with a smile. "You're not exactly 'down the road'."

Merlin grinned. "Yes, I know. That's why I've arranged for a Ruadan to come and stay with you for a while. As well as bringing a few of his own ravens along, he'll also have some eggs for you and will help them to hatch at Camelot. That way the young birds will be imprinted there and can be used to send messages."

"Will they be special birds?" Gwen asked.

"Once they're born in England they won't need to be, but Ruadan will be there in the meantime and can stay for long enough to train an apprentice or two whilst he's there. So, during that time, he'll be able to send and receive the special birds allowing us to easily stay in touch with one another." He gave Arthur a broad grin. "Assuming you don't mind having a little bit of magic within Camelot?"

Arthur glared at him. "I'm sure I'll survive the trauma," he replied. There was a long pause before the king strode forwards and held out a hand. "Well, I suppose it's time for us to part company. Take care, Merlin and you're right that we must arrange a meeting at some point, although I've no idea when or how we'd manage such a thing."

"It's certainly true that life isn't going to be dull from now on," Merlin agreed.

~o~0~o~

* * *

_**A/N:** I've been keen to keep my notes to a minimum during this fic and so just a little reminder to check out my PP if you want to know more about this story and the others I'm working on at the moment._

_I worked hard on a nice little balance on this fic. Eight chapters for Arthur, eight for Merlin and, if you check the title names you'll see a nice bit of symmetry there too (Arriving in Wales/Arriving in England. Gold Conversion/Gold Revenge.) And the 'final' chapters of each part are called The Tricoloured Dragon but silly FF won't let me do that! :P_


	17. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Ten Years Later**

"Are you _still_ looking out of that window?" Morgana asked Merlin with a sigh as she walked into their shared bed chambers.

"They must be close by now," her husband replied nervously, not even turning around to look at her.

"Merlin, honestly! You _know_ they are," she said, exasperated. "It's not as if you haven't arranged enough ways to keep an eye on him over the years, after all."

"But, it's been so long since they were last here."

"Yes, it has." She sighed. "Do you think Arthur has forgiven me yet?"

Merlin did turn away from the window then, holding out his arms to her and breathing in the familiar scent of her hair as she clung to him. "_I've_ forgiven you," he said quietly.

"Thank you," she replied.

Merlin leant down and gently kissed his wife, happily distracted for several long moments, before the blast of a bugle sounded from below and caused him to pull out of her embrace.

"They're here!" He grinned broadly.

Morgana laughed. "It's official. You _are_ the biggest child in this family." Merlin stuck out his tongue at her. "Point proven."

"Talking of which..." Merlin began.

"I have no idea," Morgana replied, knowing instantly what he was talking about. "Why don't you use your all-powerful magic to find out?"

"I'm not sure there's time," Merlin said with a sigh.

With a nod at each other, the young couple quickly turned to leave, only to jump abruptly on finding a small, dark-haired child standing silently in front of them and looking up with wide, grey eyes. It was almost as if she had appeared out of thin air.

"Where have you been, Elaine?" Morgana asked, exasperated. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Yn siarad efo Lili Wen," she replied in Welsh.

"Talking to Snowdrop?" Merlin shook his head in disbelieve. "I can't believe that she names a black raven, Snowdrop, and then talks to him more than she does to us."

Morgana grinned and turned back to the girl. "I looked for you in the Raven Tower earlier."

"Doeddan ni ddim yna."

"Yes, I _know_ you weren't there – that was more than obvious. Come on now, we have guests to meet and _please_ will you talk to them in English. Most of them don't understand Welsh."

"Ond dydi Lili Wen ddim yn deall Saesneg," the little girl replied with a pout.

"Snowdrop may not understand English but you certainly do, Elaine," Merlin said with another sigh. "_Please_ will you try?"

"I blame you, entirely," Morgana mumbled to her husband as the three walked out of the room.

"What? Why me?"

"I'm sure it's your weird magic that has caused her to be like this."

"Hey! She's your daughter too."

~o~0~o~

There were only four English guests in the visiting party, with no need for any additional knights for protection in these more peaceful days. The last few steps up the hill were obviously a struggle for them with horses and riders fighting against a particularly vicious storm that had whipped up during the last couple of hours. Merlin and Morgana moved forwards, pulling their cloaks closer for protection against the weather.

"I welcome you all to Castell Dinas Emrys," he shouted over the wind. "My name is Myrddin ap Balinor ab Ambrosius, Prince of Wales, and I name you as honoured guests to my Hall."

"Seriously, Merlin? Is that any way to greet an old friend?" Arthur asked, exasperated.

"What other way is there?" he replied with a grin, coming forward with a hand raised to shake, only to have the king pull him suddenly and roughly into a bear hug.

"The weather is even worse than usual," Morgana called out, attempting to wrestle her long hair back under her cape hood. "Let's continue the greetings in the warm, shall we?"

Merlin felt Arthur stiffen slightly at the sound of her voice, but he forced a smile onto his face as he pulled away from their embrace and gave her a curt nod. "You'll get no objections from me."

"Nor me," Gaius agreed.

"I'm glad you could make it," Merlin said, moving alongside the old man and offering his arm for the last short climb.

"Pleased I'm still alive, you mean?" he retorted with a smile as they moved into the courtyard.

"I never had any doubts about that," Merlin insisted. "You look very well."

The party entered the Great Hall to find it already formally set up, with the Tricoloured Table taking pride of place in the centre. There were fires roaring in the hearths, torches blazing in their sconces and servants hovering nearby with trays of food and pitchers of mead.

"I thought you might appreciate the opportunity to sit down and enjoy a little refreshment before retiring to your chambers," Merlin said, shaking out his wet cloak and handing it to a waiting servant. He grinned broadly. "Of course, we are mostly well known to one another, but I do believe there are two people here that are rather less familiar."

"Well, as I'm sure you've all guessed, this is our son and heir, Prince Amhar of Camelot," Arthur announced proudly, and the youngest member of the English group bowed beautifully, his face serious. A small, dark-haired Arthur, Merlin quickly decided.

"How old are you now, Amhar?" Morgana asked.

"I turned eight last season," the boy replied, with a cautious smile. "And I am very pleased to be here. You have a beautiful Hall."

"Thank you, Amhar," Merlin replied. "I see that you've inherited your _mother's_ manners." He shot Arthur a teasing smile.

"And that comment simply proves that you have none," his friend shot back.

Merlin smiled brightly. "This is Elaine ferch Myrddin ap Balinor of Gwynedd," he continued, and his daughter gave a perfectly acceptable curtsey but, unsurprisingly, didn't speak, simply watching the guests curiously; her head tipped and her eyes blinking.

"Named after your other sister?" Gwen asked Morgana and she nodded with a small smile. Just like Merlin, the English Queen had been far quicker to forgive her old friend than Arthur had.

After that, everyone mingled and talked for a while and Merlin realised that he was feeling more content than he had in years. Ever since their strange Dragon bond had been confirmed at the ceremony a decade ago, being apart from the others had felt like having a constant itch he was unable scratch. Morgana being close helped, but one important piece of him was always to the east – in Camelot – and it always made Merlin feel very uncomfortable.

Prince Amhar was seated now; a goblet on the bench to his left with his legs dangling a little, whilst he carefully ate a piece of cake from a pewter plate. Elaine decided to join him, scrambling up on the other side of the bench and staring at him curiously, as if he was something especially new and mysterious. Merlin nudged Gwen and the two friends watched their children's first proper interaction carefully.

Amhar was obviously aware of the girl's presence, his eyes darting over to her position from time to time even as he tried to ignore her – focusing on finished his food. Then Elaine put out a hand and touched his sleeve very gently and he turned to look at her curiously.

"Hello," he said politely.

She didn't reply, her hand now moving to stroke the material of his shirt, her gaze moving from his arm to his face and back, a small frown on her face all the time as she studied him. The boy looked up, saw they now had an audience and shrugged his shoulders in a silent question.

"Elaine. Mind your manners!" Morgana scolded and the little girl frowned, obviously confused, before lowering her arm – although she didn't move away, even shuffling a little closer to Amhar on the bench. The boy looked as if it was taking him a huge amount of self control for him not to move away and recreate the previous gap and, despite the adults trying to look stern, it was obvious from everyone's expressions that they were all finding the situation highly amusing.

A short time later, Gwen suggested that it was time to retire to their chambers in order to bathe and dress for the evening banquet, and her son took this as a valid excuse to leave promptly - jumping up from the bench as if it were hot. However, as the English party started to move towards the door, Elaine chose to follow, staying close to the boy – rather _too_ close. The young prince stopped abruptly as he noticed her following, which caused her to run into the back of him, blinking in that surprised, bird-like way she had.

"What are you doing?" This time Amhar sounded impatient.

She grinned broadly. "Ti'n neis."

"What?"

"Elaine, behave!" Merlin said, desperately trying not to laugh. "Leave the poor boy alone."

"I've had a vision about those two you know?" Morgana whispered to him as a quiet aside as the others finally left.

"What sort of vision?" he asked but she just raised an eyebrow at him and smirked.

"Morgana!"

~o~0~o~

The following day saw the adults back in the Great Hall ready for some general discussions about their alliance and the future of the two countries.

They were joined by Gwaine, Mordred, Thomas and Hunith; all moving to their 'correct' seats around The Tricoloured Table. Arthur sat down at his place in the centre of the Gold side and Merlin smiled as he caught his friend nod knowingly as he looked around, calmly noting where everyone was sitting.

"Do you understand now?" the prince asked.

"I think so," Arthur replied. "I'm the Gold Dragon so I sit in the middle of this side, with you at the centre of the Red and Morgana on the White."

"Yes, and the others here take the seat that best suits their skills. It's not set in stone; many here could sit in a couple of different places and it wouldn't be wrong, but it's usually fairly easy to decide the most appropriate position for each group of nine that comes to sit here." He signalled over to a servant, silently requesting that the drinks be served. "Gaius, for example, sits on the corner of the Red and White – magic and knowledge, whilst Thomas is best placed on the corner of the White and Gold – knowledge and steel."

"And Guinevere?"

"Gwen is especially unique. Her traits are balanced – all three colours perfectly even – hence her special relationship to us and her uncanny ability to get along with everyone." All at the table smiled at the English Queen who, fairly typically lowered her head modestly her cheeks colouring.

"Arthur's now got his own table in Camelot, you know?" she said after a short pause. "A round one. It's very beautiful."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Round?"

"A sign of equality," Arthur stated proudly. "A round table affords no one man more importance than any other."

"Nice sentiment," Merlin teased. "But I think the truth of the matter is that you couldn't bear the fact that I had such a pretty table and decided to create one for yourself." Everyone bust out laughing, whilst Arthur glared at the Welsh prince for his cheek.

The discussions started with general talk about what was happening in England and Wales; none of it especially new, as ravens now regularly flew back and forth between the two counties and all were kept well informed of developments.

"And you're still not getting any grumbles about your friendship with me?" Arthur asked Merlin.

"Nothing of importance," the prince replied with a shrug. "Some remain suspicious, I admit, assuming that you're now planning to take over Wales completely and will ask them to give up their Druidic practises as your father once did."

"I see no reason for that," Arthur replied. "They're not harming England with their beliefs and, as you've no doubt discovered, trying to rule outright over a large territory is impossible unless you have faithful lords to oversee each area. As it stands, we're getting all the financial benefits of easy trade with Wales, with none of the costs of inevitable war if I _did_ try to take over. I see no reason to overturn the apple cart."

"Yes, of course, that's good it's just..." Merlin frowned. "I suppose it's just the one bit of The Tricoloured Dragon prophecy that most of us still don't understand."

"What is?"

"The fact that the three of us were supposed to bring about one united country."

"That meant Wales, surely?" Gaius said.

"Then why is Arthur a part of it?" Merlin retorted. "No, the Druid elders agree that the ancient texts imply that the three of us will be responsible for uniting both countries but, right now, I'm struggling to see how and why such a thing would happen, especially considering what Arthur has just said."

"Well, there's no point in worrying about that now," the king replied. "As long as both our peoples are happy with this arrangement, I see no reason why it can't continue indefinitely. That's why I wanted to bring Amhar here, to be honest, despite some of my lords complaining about us both travelling together."

"Oh?"

"I want him to discover Wales in the same way I did. Not just as a place on the map, but as a real country with real people, history and customs. That's what made the difference for me, you see? Visiting here and starting to understand it. Unlike my father who never did."

Merlin nodded. "Good, because we want this to continue, don't we? There's no point in the prophecy and us having become friends, if our children don't also fully embrace this alliance."

Hunith laughed. "No problem with that as far as Elaine's concerned, apparently, although I'm not sure that Amhar feels like being friends with _her_ at the moment."

"Oh, I don't know," Gwen replied with a smile. "He said this morning that it was rather like having his own cute little puppy following him around everywhere."

"Well, _that's_ no good," Morgana complained. "That's no way to start any sort of friendship." She sighed. "Elaine turns six next season, and we really _have_ been trying to get her to socialise a bit more but, to be honest, your son is the only child that she's ever shown _any_ interest in. All her friends here seem to be adults and animals."

"Great, so they're _both_ seeing the other as pets," Gwaine joked. "Interesting way to start a relationship, although I'm sure they'll start viewing each other differently in a few years time."

"Well, I certain won't object to a marriage alliance between the two," Arthur said, "Although I certainly wouldn't insist in it."

"There, you see. I knew it!" Merlin exclaimed, suddenly sitting forward on his chair.

"What?" Arthur looked bemused.

"You _are_ determined to take Wales for yourself in one way or another."

"What are you talking about, Merlin?"

"Well, if Amhar and Elaine were to marry then..." He paused – eyes suddenly wide. "Oh!"

"What?"

"_That's_ what it means."

The looks around the table were a strange mixture of confusion, shock and amusement.

"Merlin! What?" As usual, Arthur was a little slower on the uptake.

"If Elaine is our only child, which seems likely now, and if she marries Amhar, then he could well be the Prince of Wales after me," Merlin explained. "He will also, of course, eventually be the King of England."

"Oh. You mean _that's_ how the two countries are to become united?" Morgana said, nodding. "Well, that explains my vision then."

"What vision?" Arthur asked.

"About Elaine and Amhar. I admit that I was viewing it as romantic rather than political, but I suppose that must be the reason I had that particular dream at this time." She nodded sadly. "It's a shame in some ways. I mean, a shame if the Welsh identity ends up disappearing altogether."

"Why would it?" Arthur countered. "It's a territory just like many of the ones we all oversee. As I said before, I'm perfectly happy for Wales to keep its independence from England and can even write that into the laws if I need to."

Merlin was only half listening, his mind still dwelling on the sudden understanding of the Prophecy that had hit him as if he were the White Dragon rather than his wife.

"It all makes sense now," he said thoughtfully. "The Tricoloured Dragon Prophecy wasn't just about our abilities as Red, Gold and White, it was also about our friendship. If the four of us hadn't become friends – if we hadn't married – then our children would never have been born."

"What?" Arthur looked shocked. "So you're saying that it's _not_ about us at all? That it's about Amhar and Elaine instead?"

"Oh no. The prophecy was always about the three of us setting the wheels of destiny in motion. So, we _are_ important to the story, but perhaps only to the first part of it."

"You believe this is another one of those things that we ultimately have no control over?" Gwen asked.

Merlin looked at Morgana who's expression seemed as bemused as his. She nodded, silently confirming what he was now sensing about the future. "We three _are_ the Tricoloured Dragon," he said, "but perhaps that is a title that can be passed down just like our others. I'm definitely getting the sense that there is more to the prophecy than any of us have realised.

"There is no doubt in my mind that the Tricoloured Dragon will one day fly again."

**The End**

* * *

_**A/N:** Interesting experience that - having the whole story written before I started publishing. I'm not sure I'll be doing it again, although I definitely prefer being ahead than constantly panicking about trying to stay on track. The downside is lack of feedback which means that suggestions and comments you made couldn't really be utilised here, although I may do an edit/tweak/update at some point down the line. (I had an idea to make it a longer, three pov fic but was on a schedule for the Big Bang and didn't have the time.)_

_Not quite yet though as I've another story ready to go for you. :D This one is set during the Purge and although not finished it is a good way along so I plan to get Chapter 1 out to you tomorrow and Chapter 2 when I come back from my holiday the Sunday afterwards. As usual see PP for details on 'We Loyal Traitors'._

_New readers might also like to check out my 'In Progress' and 'To-do' list and please do drop me a PM if you have any questions or comments._

_Thanks for all your wonderful support and comments on this. And another thank you must go out to shadowkat101 for all her Welsh help._


End file.
